Two Nightingales
by OhMyStarsShiz
Summary: Clara and John were sent to England as a married couple, working for the KGB. Living false lives and having to adapt, they struggle to understand each other. Will they ever find love in the life they have been chosen to live? Whoufflé AU
1. Get What You Give

**This story was inspired by the TV show, The Americans. It will involve certain things from that in some storylines, but only a few things. You really don't need to know about the show to get this. **

**It's based in the 1980s, during the cold war. It's based in England, because I am English and I really struggle to write the Doctor and Clara as American. There were also sleepers in England, just not as many, so this is still fairly fact-based.**

**I think I do too many history Whoufflé AUs, but I can't help myself. I will update every few days as I'm working on something else simultaneously (bad idea). **

**Please enjoy and leave a comment in the reviews!**

* * *

She walked into the small apartment and turned on the lights. It was a reasonable size, more than she was used to. She dropped her tiny suitcase by the couch and stood extremely still. John followed her in and did the same, standing a respectable distance apart.

All that could be heard in the room was their small breaths. They had no idea what they should say to each other or do next. She was the first to look up, biting her lip nervously. He felt her gaze on him and did the same.

After a few moments of an awkward stare, She looked away and picked up her suitcase again. She slowly walked towards the bed in the small adjoined room and placed the case on the bed. She closed her eyes for a few moments to clear her head. Upon hearing his footsteps, she swiftly moved to the side of the bed to give him space.

He placed his case next to hers and stared up at her. They were drowning in the surrounding silence, unsure of how to proceed.

* * *

_He walked into the main office. This was the day he would receive his assignment. He had been training since he was twenty years old for his country. After months of extensive training, learning everything about the normal way to live in England, he was going to be place. He had been taught everything from the casual way of talking to how you drive your car. _

_He sat down in the main office at the KGB headquarters and waited patiently. After ninety-six seconds, which he counted, a small girl walked in and sat down in the chair next to him. They exchanged glances before waiting for the third person. _

_They both stood as their commanding officer entered the room. "Ah!" He said boldly. "Have you two yet been introduced?" He asked. It was clear English was not his first language, but the sudden change had shocked them both slightly and they had to adjust their heads. _

_The girl shook her head as did the man. _

_"Well then, John this is Clara, Clara this is John." They turned to each other and nodded their greetings._

_Their commander tutted. "You have been married for six weeks. You will live in a small place called Leadworth, not far from the outskirts of London." He handed them both a folder. "This is everything you will need to know about your life. From now on you will only speak in English. You will not speak of any life you had before this day."_

_John opened the folder. "John Smith." It read at the top. He peaked over to Clara's who read, "Clara Smith, formerly Oswald." _

_He was to become a boy who's parents died in a car accident when he was nineteen. He was born in London and would work as a scientist. The company he was going to work for was being run by the Soviets secretly, who knew about this operation. _

_Clara was to become a stay-at-home wife until she found a job that was suitable. That was the normal thing to do, although she couldn't say she was happy about it. She was to have been born in Blackpool. Her parents would still live there._

_This was her new life and she'd have to learn it inside out as if it were real. Once she'd been excused from the room, she turned to John who smiled slightly towards her. They would spend at least a few years as husband and wife now. They would be expected to have children and to blend in with society. Clara didn't want to know this man, but she would do it for the Motherland. _

* * *

Clara removed her jacket and folded it up neatly on the floor. She was wearing a simple frock underneath, leaving her a little cold. She shivered from the sudden chill but also because John had wrapped his arm around her back and used his other hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

She inhaled sharply and looked away, purposefully coughing. "Um, we need to unpack." She murmured. It was the first full sentence they'd spoken since they'd met.

"Yeah, of course. It's just..." He paused and itched his eye. "You know, we're meant to be newlyweds. I just thought that..."

"Not yet." She said sharply. "It's not as if anyone would know anyway."

She was tough, he could tell that. She obviously hated the idea of being weaker than men and refused to let him take control.

"Well, we're going to have to have kids someday. Can't leave it forever." He muttered under his breath.

"Well, tonight it isn't essential, is it?" She spat.

"No need to be arrogant, I was simply saying..."

"What? That I'm your toy? That I do what you say?" She edged further with each word her first clenched and ready to pound. He grabbed her wrist and pulled it in front of their faces.

"That we need to act more like a couple." He snarled. "And try to like each other. I'm prepared to do that, unless you try and attack me again. And keep it down, we have neighbours, _remember?_"

She pulled her arm out his grip and went back to her suitcase. "Sorry." She murmured quietly, just enough so he would hear it.

"It's fine." He replied, pulling his pyjamas out of his case. He had one pair of casual clothes and two suits for work. That would do until his salary allowed him to buy more. They would have to save up for a bigger house too eventually.

Clara did the same and then turned away, allowing him to get changed. He coughed to inform her that he was done and she could get changed too. She undressed quickly and put on her nightclothes. She made sure she was tucked up into one side of the bed before she let him know it was okay to turn around. She didn't want him getting any wrong ideas.

* * *

Clara struggled at first to adjust to the normal way of life in England. Everyone was just so different and happy all the time. She didn't have to work, but she couldn't say she liked that. She'd been hand picked at seventeen to be a part of this assignment. She'd thought that two years in intensive coaching would make her ready, but she doubt anything they'd ever done would have made her ready enough.

She didn't even know her "husband's" age. Did he even know she was only nineteen years old? She'd always deemed that too young to be married. She was grateful her Mother would never find out about it. It would have made her furious, even if it as for her country.

She avoided him at all moments possible, only conversing with him over dinner or in public when she acted like a good housewife. She'd already had to kiss him in front of the neighbours after they made a remark about young love and how close it brought people together. That's when she'd noticed the gaping distant between herself and her "beloved."

She'd played the dutiful wife, as she was mean to, but she couldn't bring herself to like John. She knew it wasn't his fault. He'd been trying to be affectionate towards her, become friendly with her but she had rejected all of his advances.

He wasn't too keen on spending the rest of his life with a woman who barely spoke to him. In his eyes, she was far too young. She looked too innocent, even though the KGB would never dare send an under-seventeen into a mission like this. She was so short, it didn't help how young she would look at times. He'd given up a lot for this mission and he needed her to co-operate.

Even after their first assignment was over, she didn't trust him like she needed to. They'd been ordered to sneak a Soviet diplomat out of England and onto a waiting helicopter, where he would be taken to a boat which would go back to Moscow.

As Clara watched the helicopter leave, she had a moment of longing to join the man so she could go home. She knew there was nothing left for her back there, but sometimes she'd like to think there was.

They'd been in England for just over two months and John eventually decided he'd had enough of the silent treatment. He waited until she was curled up on the sofa reading before he joined her. Every night, she sat in the same spot by the fire and read a book. They were usually classics like Pride and Prejudice and Charles Dickens. He'd never been too keen on them and couldn't understand where her passion for them came from.

The language was a little too complicated for him too. He could read English perfectly well, but he struggled to find the beauty in the words when he was still not fully accustomed to doing everything in English. She clearly hadn't been affected by that.

When she saw him sit beside her, she closed her book and moved her legs to sit up. He quickly grabbed her arm, causing her to flinch. He was holding her gently, in a comforting manner.

"We need to talk." He said. She nodded and moved back to her previous position hesitantly.

"Yes? What is it?" She replied, looking at the floor.

"Nothing in particular. I just want to talk to you." He took one of her hands in his and warmed it between his palms. She flashed a small smile in his direction.

"So...what do you want to talk about?" She murmured.

"Ourselves. Little things." She furrowed her brow. He lifted up his free arm for expression. "Like, your favourite colour, favourite food, hobbies, childhood dreams, current dreams, anything."

She giggled a little at his flailing hand. He seemed to not be able to keep his limbs under control very well.

"Um, I don't know. I guess...my favourite colour is red." She whispered, waiting to check that this was a good answer.

"I like red. Like dark red or...?"

"Scarlett red. Like the intense kind. That or purple."

He smiled at her answer. It was probably the most normal conversation they'd had to date. "Mine's blue. A really deep blue."

She nodded in acceptance. "Um, I've always wanted to see the world. This is kind of my chance I guess."

John looked down to his feet momentarily. "I wanted to travel too. But, this was the only way to leave Russia."

They both desperately tried to think of something other than the topic of Russia. They didn't want to bring up things that they shouldn't.

"I hate pears." John suddenly said out of the blue. The spontaneity of the statement caused Clara to start laughing and her shoulders shook with each sound.

John began to laugh too, observing how delicate her laugh was. It wasn't childish, but it wasn't old fashioned. It was a natural sound, like music to his ears.

"Well, I happen to love pears." She smiled. He made a face at this and she giggled once more.

They stared at each other once more as silence hit them whilst they thought of things that other should know. "I'm twenty-three years old." John finally murmured, knowing that this needed to be said.

"Nineteen." Clara replied twisting a ring on her finger. He would have questioned her about it, had he not been so taken aback by her age.

"Nineteen?" He gasped. "You're..."

"Don't look so shocked." She retorted to his reaction. "I'm not a child."

"I don't doubt you are. I just thought you would be in your twenties."

At least he was honest, she thought. "Surprise." She whispered, before pulling her legs off the sofa and hugging her book to her chest. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

She walked towards the bedroom and shut the door quietly behind her. John looked over to the door with a sudden pang of guilt filling his chest.

He waited a minute before making his way over to the room and knocking on the door twice. "Erm, one second!" She shouted from inside.

He patiently stood, turning off the lights to the rest of the apartment which happened to be beside him. When the door opened, Clara was already in her nightclothes and climbing into the bed.

"Clara?" He asked soothingly, waiting by the wardrobe which was next to the door.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry, for being so...blunt with you, for lack of better words." He said apologetically.

"John, if this is about what you said about being married I..."

"I understand why you don't want that yet and that's fine with me..."

"John, it doesn't bother me." She said in an increased volume. "I'm perfectly capable of fulfilling that duty. I just want to know you better first, you know?"

John nodded at her explanation, although it wouldn't explain why she had pretty much ignored him for their time together.

"Okay, I understand." He replied courteously. He waited until she was facing away to change into his pyjamas and slip into bed.

Usually he would turn in the opposite direction of her, careful to maintain a boundary. He waited until she was asleep before he turned to her.

She would always catch him examining her during the day, so he had to do it at night. She was actually extremely pretty. Her long eyelashes rested peacefully as she dreamt. He studied the way her nose went slightly up towards the end, which he found adorable. He watched as her slightly-parted lips took in a lungful of air before exhaling. He watched as her small chest fell and rose, counting each second in his head. He loved how her hair was fanned out beneath her, tickling his arm slightly in the small bed. He ran his fingers through the tresses gently, admiring it's smoothness.

After realising he'd been studying her for far too long, he turned away and made sure he slept.

He was unsure about their relationship. This would go on for years and years, and even after that day it didn't seem to improve too much. He hoped that they would be given new assignments soon enough.


	2. Good For The Soul

**So many follows! Thank you guys so much!**

**This chapter should give a little more insight into the characters' way of life. It might seem very Clara-central for the first four or five chapters, but that will change soon. **

**Also: Yes, I changed my penname. The reason is that I only had my previous one because no-one had taken it. I'd never intended to write when I made an account and I just didn't like it. So, I changed it to OhMyStarsShiz. Shiz comes from an old nickname so I hope that clears that up!**

**Enjoy the chapter and please R+R!**

* * *

Clara was vacuuming the carpets as John walked in the room. She'd spent the last five months doing this and she was thoroughly bored. She looked up to him. "How was work?" She asked politely.

"Same as ever." He replied bluntly, throwing his coat over the back of the sofa. Clara took a steady breath so she didn't get angry before standing up and hanging the coat up on the coat peg. She swore he always forgot that she wasn't just his personal slave.

"We have an assignment tonight." He told her from the kitchen as he spread some jam onto two slices of bread.

"What is it?" She replied, clenching and unclenching her fist so she wouldn't snap at him for eating too much either. She often forgot that they didn't need to worry about rations anymore. Little things that he did would often aggravate her and it truly made her want to punch him.

She mentally cursed herself for getting a temper so easily. Back in Moscow she would be able to go to the training gym and take it out on the punch bag. She hadn't used a punch bag too often before she came to England in simple fear of the gym, so she took it out on her pillow from then on instead.

"There's two ex-soviets who came here ten years ago. Two days ago they identified two sleeper agents and told the authorities. They need to be taken care of before the do it again."

Clara nodded in acceptance. "So, we take them to the KGB or...?"

"We get them out of the picture in any way possible. If we can, take them to headquarters but if we can't we simply take action."

"If we can't?"

"If they put up a fight, which they undoubtedly will. Be ready by nine."

"Ok." She said and went to her bedroom to get a rest. She barely slept at night anymore. She just couldn't force herself into unconsciousness and as appealing as sleeping pills sounded, she wasn't too well acquainted with British money as of yet and wanted to make sure she knew it perfectly before going to the chemist.

She'd been taught all about it back in Moscow, it was simply knowing how much to give and the small delay that would look suspicious. Clara barely went out. She would take a tube every so often to the centre of London and stroll in the parks to clear her head.

She heard a couple speaking Russian there the other day and wanted so desperately to go up to them. They would probably report her there. They wouldn't be soviets and must have gone to England before the USSR. She knew she missed home a little too much.

It was actually one thought that made her miss home the most. The idea that she would not be able to visit her Mother's gravestone when she felt lost made her sick to her stomach. She'd always been able to find her Mother when things became too overwhelming, but she wasn't there anymore. She couldn't even say anything to John about it because he wasn't allowed to know.

For all of his knowledge, her parents were both alive and the only ones she could speak about to anyone lived in a place called Blackpool. The world suddenly felt so big when she thought about home and how far away from it she was.

Now she was in England, the reality of the assignment hit her and she knew that it was never going to end. The only way they would ever get back to Russia would be if the war ended and then they would be found out by the English authorities and most likely arrested. The only way they could go home would be in a body-bag or in a prison cell and that's if they even sent them home after that.

* * *

Clara woke to John shaking her. "Clara, it's eighty-thirty." He murmured. She glanced over to the clock on the bedside and groaned. He was right. She groaned as he left the room to herself.

She lazily moved her body out from under the covers and walked over to her wardrobe. She pulled out some leggings and a loose shirt which she could move in. They were not the most practical wear to blend in entirely, but they would have to do.

She got changed and walked into the kitchen to find John had cooked dinner. "lasagne?" He asked politely, holding up a plate with the meal on.

She looked at it and then back to John a few times before she fully understood. "You cooked?" She asked in disbelief. "You never cook."

"Well, I figured that since I actually know how and you obviously don't, I should make the dinner." She smiled at him, ignoring the small dig he made at her awful cooking.

"Thank you." She said sweetly. She didn't think she'd actually ever said that to him before.

"Your welcome." He smiled, handing her the plate with a knife and fork as they carried their dishes through to the small dining table and sat down to eat.

They ate in silence, Clara rather enjoying her meal for once. She shot him another small smile of gratitude which he returned politely.

Once the clock struck nine, John and Clara left the flat carefully. They were extremely lucky to own the bottom flat so they didn't disturb anyone on the way out and in. It also meant that went unnoticed most of the time.

They got into the new car which John had bought two weeks prior and set off to their destination. They had to kidnap this man on his way home from a massive reception at some restaurant.

It was going to be risky and they had to ensure they didn't attract too much attention themselves. He would know they were Russians the moment they tried to abduct him and he would do everything in his power to stop them.

John parked two streets away from the restaurant. This was the route the man would have to take home. They would quickly grab him and get him into their car. From there they were to drive to an alleyway nearby.

They waited half an hour before he finally emerged. Clara got out of the car and leant against the fence on the pavement.

As he neared, she begun to mess with her purse. Just as he was about to pass, she dropped in and made a noise of surprise.

"Oh, Ma'am, let me get that for you." He bent down to pick up the purse and John came up behind him, covering his head with a clothed bag. They both wrestled him into the car, holding down his hands as he struggled. They managed to drive away unseen, Clara holding him down in the backseat.

His thrashes kept causing John to swerve and Clara shouted at him each time. "For God's sake, just find somewhere!"

"Just a minute!" John shouted in return.

He finally parked up in a dark back alley with only one way out. They were far enough down so that no-one would see them.

John hastily stopped the car and opened the back door, dragging the man out. He pulled the bag off his head and pushed him against the wall as Clara climbed out.

"Now, we can make a deal. You either come with us where you'll be sent back to Russia to pay your price, or we can deal with this another way." John threatened.

The man waited a few moments before kneeing John in the gut and elbowing the back of his head. Clara forgot he'd been KGB trained too.

She ran up to him and threw her punches in whilst receiving just as many. She pushed him back against the wall before he grabbed her and swapped the positions.

With each blow, each side became considerably weaker. Just as Clara thought he'd been beaten, he pinned her against the wall in a choke hold. She struggled against him, unable to move.

His body was thrown away from her when John pulled him off her and punched him in the head. Clara struggled to regain her breath and her sight was slightly blurry. She could vaguely make out John stumbling in the background. The man had been tougher than they'd reckoned.

The moment his back was turned, Clara came up behind him and pulled him off John with her arm around his neck. She pushed him down onto the floor and pulled his hands behind his back, sitting on him to hold him down. She then grabbed his head and quickly twisted it to the side, severing his spinal chord. She heard the crack before his body went lifeless.

John walked over to her and pulled her off the man. "You okay?" He asked Clara, pulling the hair from her face.

"Yeah, I'm fine. He only got in a few punches." She replied, walking to the legs of the body. "You get the top." She told him as she pulled the lower half of his body into her arms.

John picked up his torso and they carried his lifeless shell to the boot of their car, before cramming him in. they drove to a small place by the Thames and pulled the body out of the car.

After wiping the body clean from fingerprints and burning all of his clothes, they threw his body in the water for the British to find the next day. This was a message to them.

* * *

The drive home was silent, John's knuckles white on the steering wheel. When they finally arrived back at the apartment, Clara walked in slowly.

She could see John's face better in the light and his black eye was starting to get worse. "Oh my God." She tutted as she ran to the bathroom to find make up.

She also got a hot flannel and made him dap at it in case there were any cuts within the bruising. "We can cover the bruise, but the swelling will show." She told him. "If anyone asks, you walked into the cupboard."

"Why do I have to have walked into a cupboard?" He complained. "Can't I have saved your life as you walked in front of a car or something cool like that? They'll laugh if I say I walked into a cupboard."

"No, you can't say that. If they laugh, then they laugh. No big deal. I'm sure you can endure a few baby teases for a day John." She took the flannel from him and used it to dap at his cut lip. He winced and she rolled her eyes.

Once she was done, she put the things away and sat down on the sofa. "Clara, do you have any bruises?" He asked quietly.

"None that need taken care of. They're not on my face so they can be hidden." She said simply. They had been taught how to hide things like this well, but that wasn't what he'd meant.

"I mean, do they hurt?"

"Nothing I can't handle." She said simply. She stared at the wall for a moment, waiting for John to do something. He stood still for a minute before announcing he was going to sleep.

"John?" Clara suddenly piped up.

"Yeah?" He turned around in confusion to face her.

"I've been thinking and...Fridays." She said definitively.

"What?" John asked, unsure of what she meant.

"You said we needed to act like a married couple. So...Fridays. That's when you're allowed to do what you want." She murmured.

She'd been considering it for a long time. It wasn't something she'd be able to put off forever, even though she'd prayed she would be able to.

"Oh, okay." John said to himself. "Today is Friday." He stated as-a-matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, I know." She whispered.

"Oh." He said in realisation. "Oh, so do you want to...?"

"I don't mind."

John thought it over to himself. "I'm just going to go to bed and think it through." He muttered some time later.

His hesitancy came from the fact that she still hadn't removed her gaze from the wall, even during their conversation. He went to bed and stripped down to his boxers and shirt. When Clara came in a small time later, she got changed into her nightgown and climbed into bed.

"Clara?" He asked softly.

"Yes?" She whispered.

"Was today the first time you killed someone?" He tried to be gentle, unsure how she'd take it.

There was a silence before a quiet "yes." John nodded to himself before turning his head to her.

"Are you okay? I mean, did it affect you in some way?"

"No. I was fine with it." Clara meant what she said, but John could tell that she was feeling like she shouldn't.

"Was it yours?" She counter-asked.

"No. I had one or two missions back in Moscow."

"Oh." She spoke softly.

He turned his body fully to her and gently stroked some hair out of her face. She knew that this was his answer to her earlier to statement. She'd only decided on allowing him this because she wanted to zone out.

She knew that if he made advances, she would be able to numb her mind and not think about anything, and that was what she did.

* * *

Later that night, John was still awake. He'd thought he would do it, just to get it out of the way and so that he didn't seem like he was suddenly being childish about it. He'd also decided that he wouldn't do it again any time soon. He'd thought it was comfort her somehow, but it didn't. He knew that she had been zoning herself out the entire time. It made him feel awful, and he didn't want her to feel that way. It had definitely not brought them any closer, it might have even shoved a wedge between them.

Either way, it kept him up all night thinking about it.


	3. As Long As We Try

**Thank you for all the great feedback and follows! Sorry for the short chapter. Thanks to the beta whoufflefans!**

* * *

"I've got myself a job." Clara said to John at dinner. He looked up from his meal and smiled at her.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"I've been asked to become the nanny for two kids on floor three. They're thirteen and nine. Boy and girl, very nice apparently."

John pursed his lips and nodded. "Sounds good. Do you like children?"

She looked down at her food. "I love children." She murmured. "I used to babysit when I was in..." She stopped mid-sentence upon realising her slip up. "Sorry."

"It's okay. It happens." He smiled appreciatively at her and carried on eating. That seemed to be the end of the conversation. It was always like that in their household. They would say a few words before becoming silent. Mind, it had always been like that since the very start.

* * *

Clara knocked on the door and waited patiently. "Ah, Mrs Smith!" Mr Maitland greeted as he opened the door.

"Call me Clara." She replied, holding her hand out for his to shake. He took it enthusiastically before stepping aside and allowing her to enter his flat.

"Kids!" He shouted down the hall. She heard two sounds of heavy footsteps as the children walked up to her and stood, smiling.

"Hi, I'm Clara." She smiled, holding her hand out for each of them.

"Artie." The boy said, shaking it quickly. She laughed and then turned to the girl.

"Angie." She said, refusing to take her hand. She figured that this was going to be a hard relationship with the girl. She'd been told by their father that their Mother died recently and that's why they needed a nanny.

"I've got to go now." Mr Maitland suddenly said, kissing each of his children on the forehead. "Bye!"

He walked out of the door, leaving Clara with the children. "So, what do you want to do?" She asked kindly.

"You're weird." Angie said randomly, crossing her legs and folding her arms in an exaggerated sigh.

"Thank you?" Clara asked nervously.

"It's not a good thing." She retorted, walking to the kitchen counter to get herself an apple. "You act funny. "

"How so?" Clara questioned, intrigued.

"You just...seem different, like a nervous rabbit. I don't know why."

Clara nodded her confusion off and turned to the boy who was tugging at her sleeve and begging her to play hide and seek. It seemed that this day was going to be more tiring than she'd bargained for.

* * *

She finally returned home and collapsed onto the sofa. "Fun day looking after the children?" John said from behind her, holding out a cup of tea.

"Exhausting. The girl doesn't seem to like me and I think the boy likes me too much." She moaned.

"Be careful. The boy might develop a crush. You're only nineteen." John teased. Clara gave him a death glare and he immediately shut up.

"He's nine. And, I don't mind it. I'm just not used to running around after kids everywhere. Anyway, Mr Maitland asked if I could pick them up from school every day which I've agreed to. It's good money and I'm not nineteen."

John shrugged his shoulders. "Can never argue with more money. It's all anyone seems to care about here." He walked away for a moment. "Hang on, not nineteen?"

"I'm twenty." She replied dismissively, turning her attention to a book on the table.

"Since when?" John asked curiously.

"Since seven months ago." Clara replied casually. John gave a her a confused stare.

"Why didn't you say anything?" He asked, a little bit hurt that she hadn't told him. Mind, he hadn't asked.

"Hate birthdays. When was yours?" She asked, changing the direction of the question.

"It's 17th June. One month away." He told her. "I don't celebrate it though, so don't even think about doing anything."

"Why would I?" She replied truthfully. "Like I said, I hate birthdays."

Clara walked over to the post-box and looked through. She spotted one with a fake return address that they used in the KGB.

She opened the letter to find a description of something addressed to the both of them. "John, we have a mission!" she called.

She thought she heard a grunt from him before he joined her and read the details.

* * *

Clara waited at the bar, ordering a Shirley temple. She could briefly see John out of the corner of her eye at the back of the club.

All the men who walked past stopped to look at her. She was wearing an extremely short, skin tight dress. Her hair was down and her heels were quite high. She looked around until she saw her target, two barstools down. The bar was quite loud, but not exceedingly so. It was enough to speak and not be heard.

She waited until the person next to her had gone before she moved next to the man. "Hey." She smiled sweetly at him, sitting beside him.

"Oh, hi. I'm Jim." He replied, gaping at her. Like all the other men his eyes were focused on her body, just like she'd intended them to be. She studied him closely.

The object she needed to retrieve was around his neck. It was a memory chip containing vital information. She had a fake, ready to swap. She just needed to get close enough.

She ordered another drink and begun to flirt with Jim. She was practically on his lap, making him head over heels.

John was watching their every move, making sure the plan worked fine. The way she giggled into the man's ear was priceless. It was clearly making him come apart at the seams. She whispered things to him, their lips grazing as he fingers danced over his tie.

She looked truly irresistible and she knew it. She wrapped her arms around his neck to see if she would be able to take off the necklace. She used the time she spent kissing him to try and undo his chain. Unfortunately, he pulled away too soon and she had to start flirting again.

Once she had flirted with him for half an hour, he suggested they go to his hotel room which was above the bar. She put her hand behind her back and snapped her fingers twice to tell John what was going on, before following the man closely.

John walked outside to the car to wait for her there. He was extremely bored knowing he'd have to wait a while. He hoped she wouldn't take long. The thought of what she would be doing made his stomach churn, considering the man must have been about sixty years old.

* * *

She took forty minutes to come out, running over to the car. "How'd it go?" John asked, turning on the ignition and driving away.

Clara glanced at him quickly before turning away. "I kept my hand in his pants until he was screaming loudly and then I drugged him and switched the chips out." she said blankly.

John clenched his jaw as he felt his face start to turn red and he squirmed in his seat. He knew he should have expected that answer but it still hit him in the face. This was their life, they lied and cheated and slept with whoever they had to until they had exactly what they wanted and then they left without a trace

John had to glance over to her in admiration for what she'd just done though, although her face was blank. She did that a lot he noticed. He knew she could be violent, he experienced that everyday. He knew she could be flirty because he'd just witnessed. He just didn't understand why she always put up a façade. Maybe she was broken underneath.

It could be that she hated him and wanted him to think she was emotionless or that she just generally was, which he highly doubted. But somehow, amongst all of this, he'd managed to find a bit of respect for her. That much he knew.


	4. What I Hide Inside

_Clara was the best girl in the class. At least, that's what they said. She worked hard and was a good fighter; willing to learn. All the trainers thought she was great. _

_That's why she was so excited to get a private training lesson with the commanding officer. She must have been recommended for her hard work to receive such an honour. _

_She waited in the gym patiently for ten minutes until he arrived. "Ah, hello." He said boldly. _

_"Hello." She replied politely. He took up a fighting position when he reached the mats in the centre of the room where she was standing._

_She threw a punch at him and he knocked it aside, laughing at her feeble attempt. She tried again and he merely laughed when he dodged it. _

_His laughs made her angry. She wanted to prove that she could fight. She tried to punch him twice more, each attempt as much of a fail as the last. She then threw a punch before turning around and kicking him._

_He grabbed her leg when it reached him and twisted it so that she fell down onto the floor. She wanted to get up and show him that she could fight better than that, but he held her down and climbed atop her._

_She struggled underneath him as he twisted her body so that she was facing upwards. He grabbed her hands and held them together with one hand, unzipping his trousers and pulling them down._

_She tried to scream out, but he clasped her mouth shut. "No-one can hear you. Just relax and you'll enjoy it." He whispered into her ear. _

_She struggled beneath him, but it was useless. He made haste to pull down the trousers she was wearing, to her knees. She wanted to hide her face into the mat beneath her, all dignity leaving her body. _

_Fighting was helpless, but she still tried anyway. Tears built up in her eyes although she refused to let him see her cry. She would not give him that benefit. _

_He used his knee to nudge her thighs apart before forcing himself inside her. _

_She cried out in pain, trying to move but he had her pinned down in place. Each time he pushed into her, she whimpered softly knowing that no-one would hear. _

_After it was over she lay on the mat, unable to move. He left the room silently. He didn't need to tell her to keep quiet. This would only cause the men to look down on her more and call her weak. _

_She could feel blood trickling down her leg. She wanted to scream and cry, but there was no point. Everybody would have heard her, but nobody would have listened._

* * *

"Clara, wake up." John shook her until she woke. "Come on." He shook her harder.

"Wh...What?" She asked drowsily.

"You know the man who revealed a sleeper cell? Well he didn't do it alone and we have about an hour to pick up the other person and hand them to the embassy where they can be shipped back to Moscow for trial. Come on!"

Clara quickly jumped out of bed and rushed to put her clothes on. "How come this guy is being let off more by the Russians? These are different orders to last time."

John saw she was ready as they headed towards the door. "Because the traitor is Nikolay Golovin."

Clara stopped in her tracks. "Golovin?" She asked him quietly.

"Yes, Golovin. The officer from training, I know. I'm guessing you met him?"

"Yeah. Yes, I met him."

Clara begun walking again, trying to clear her head. That name was one she'd prayed she would never hear again. She hoped he was killed. She'd always thought she'd be the one to do it.

They drove to a nearby building and waited again. The routine for kidnapping was relatively easy. After nine months of being together, Clara and John pretty much knew how to carry out a perfect murder and abduction.

She waited on the street with her purse, looking up every few seconds for a signal from John that he was arriving. When she finally saw it, she dropped her purse into the road.

She begun walking to get it, making sure a car drove past. She was about to walk in front of it when two strong arms pulled her back. "Careful there." The man behind her said, and she knew it was him. His English was a lot weaker than she'd remembered it to be.

As she turned around, John put the bag on his head and pushed him into the car. By the time he'd though to cry out for help, they were long gone.

Clara held him down in the backseat, tying his hands behind his back and his feet together. She pushed his face down into the seat so he his shouts were muffled.

They quickly pulled up into a driveway, where they dragged Golovin into the boot and slammed it shut. They now had ten minutes to get him to the embassy before people would find out.

Clara looked at her watch. She knew they were too far away. They would never make it in time. John drove as fast as he could, also suspicious of time.

She saw him press his foot harder on the accelerator when she told him they had two minutes left. They were both praying for a miracle. If they were too late, there was no other chance to take him back to Russia. He would be in police protection by then.

They turned down the street, finally making it. They knew the moment they got there that they had missed it by five minutes. John slammed his first down on the wheel and cried out.

"Shit." Clara shouted, hitting the dash. "We have to hide him." She told John.

"Where? We'll have to release him back to the police!" John shouted in reply.

"He's seen our fucking faces, he knows it's us! We can't turn him in!" Clara shouted. "Take him back home. Now!"

They were both panicking. They didn't want to be caught. John restarted the car and rove back to their flat. He could see Clara breathing heavily from the corner of his eye. She was just as panicked as he was, although she was trying to maintain some sort of clear head.

When they arrived back at the flat, John opened the boot and helped Clara carry him into the house, clamping his mouth shut so no-one would hear his shouts. She found a ball gag in a drawer and tied it on Golovin so he wouldn't make a sound.

John then found the straight jacket they'd been given and put it on him. He made sure it was extra tight, staring Golovin in the eye each second.

Clara was avoiding him as much as possible, instead organising what to do next. "We need to put him somewhere. I'd say the bathroom but it depends on how long he'll be here for. I don't want him in the wardrobe, which leaves the airing cupboard." She said all these things mostly to herself.

"Airing cupboard." She turned around and told John. He dragged Golovin to the airing cupboard as he uselessly protested. John left the cupboard open for a moment so he could talk to him.

"I'm going to remove the gag." He said slowly. "If you shout, I will slit your throat." He pulled out a knife from behind his back and held it in his hand. He then leant forward and removed the gag.

Clara walked over as John cried out in pain. It seemed Golovin had bit him and now had a knife up against his throat. "Why did you sell out people from your own country?" John asked angrily.

"They paid me a million pounds. An entire million just to sell out two people. Wouldn't you do it?"

John punched him in the face. "And betray my country? No."

He re-tied the gag and locked the cupboard. John stood up fully and turned around to face Clara.

"He should be secure in there." She murmured. He nodded in agreement with her.

"Don't worry, he'll be gone soon." John re-assured.

"Not soon enough."

John could tell something was up with Clara. She spent the entire night tossing and turning. She wasn't sleeping at all and she kept shivering. He figured it was because she was nervous, although he knew that wasn't true.

* * *

The next morning, John got ready for work as usual. Clara got up and made herself breakfast as he fastened his bow-tie. Since coming to England, he really had discovered the worst fashion sense that probably possible to mankind. He did the exact opposite of blending in, which really didn't help. He looked more like a Victorian aristocrat that an everyday person.

"I'm staying here today." Clara told John. "Don't have to work, so I'll get the housework done."

John walked over to her and placed his hands on her hips from behind. "If he is dead when I get home tonight..."

"I know, I'm not going to kill him." She snapped back. He took a step back and raised his hands in the air.

"Just warning you." John said defensively. "See you tonight."

He grabbed his bag and left for work. Clara made sure she was busy all day, trying to ignore the man who was in the airing cupboard. When she'd been washing up, she picked up a knife and spent ten minutes blankly staring at it. She eventually put it down, in fear that if carried on holding it nothing would stop her from taking the steps towards the cupboard and killing him.

The only way to keep the urges off her mind was to sleep them off. She took a long sleep, hoping it would relax her.

The moment she closed her eyes, her nightmare came back. She had it often and it was all because of _him. _The man currently residing in her airing cupboard.

That thought made her want to curl as far away from him as possible from fear. She hated him and wanted revenge more than anyone.

She let out a huge sigh of relief when she heard the door open and John shouted her name. "In the bedroom!" She called, running out to him.

She gave him a friendly hug which took him by surprise. Clara was never nice to him and he couldn't recall ever receiving a hug from her before. He had definitely given them but never received one.

"You okay?" He asked gently as he pulled back.

"Fine." She smiled. He glanced over to the cupboard and nodded towards it. "He's still there." she told him and raised his eyebrows. "Alive." She added on the end.

"Good." He smiled before walking into the kitchen and preparing their meal.

Clara sat on the sofa, staring at the cupboard as John talked. She couldn't stop thinking about what happened two years ago in Moscow.

She ate her dinner silently before retiring to her bedroom. John came in a short while later too and lay beside her. She could tell he was still awake, although she didn't know why. They were both still in their clothes as if they had to go somewhere.

* * *

After an hour, he got up and walked into the living room. Clara waited until he wouldn't see her before she stood up and walked to the doorway to watch them.

He opened the airing cupboard and pulled out Golovin. He slowly untied his straight jacket and removed the ball gag.

"Quickly, go." John told him, pointing to the door. Golovin stared at John.

"Why are you saving me?" He asked. John heaved a sigh and looked up to him honestly.

"You trained me. It's the least I can do." John replied. "I don't want to kill you, and I know that they will kill you. Just don't turn us in." He gave Golovin a threatening look before walking him towards the door.

"What do you think you're doing?" Clara stood out of the doorway and challenged John.

"Setting him free so we're not sent to prison." John replied, trying to get the traitor out. Clara ran over to him and pushed him back from the door.

"That's exactly where we'll go if he is free!" She hissed at John. "He's a traitor."

John stared Clara in the eye. "He's a good man. I know him."

"He's a bastard. I know him." Clara replied. John didn't have time to question what Clara meant before she sent two blows into Golovin's stomach. He keeled over in pain, trying to fight back.

Clara kicked him until he fell back and then carried on kicking him on the floor. He tried to get up but she kicked his face so he felt back down.

John ran forward to stop Clara but she threw a hand in front of him. "Don't you dare John" She spat towards him, carrying on her fight.

"Get up!" She shouted at Golovin who slowly got off the floor. The moment he was on his knees again, she punched him once more. She allowed him to throw a few hits in there, each time making him miss. She waited until he felt useless before she punched him again and kicked him down to the floor and against the wall.

Just as she was about to kick him in the face again, he lifted his head up and said "I'm sorry."

She stopped and stared at him. "I never meant to hurt you." He added.

How could he say that? He clearly hurt her. She was shocked he even remembered. Her eyes were fixed onto his eyes as she froze in shock and hatred and fear.

"What does he mean?" John asked, reminding Clara that he was still there. "How did he hurt you?"

"I'm sorry. The officers were allowed their way with the interns. One of the perks."

She fought against the water building up in her eyes and contained all the screams she wanted to let out. She was stuck in between so many emotions that she felt empty.

"What are you talking about?" John asked once more.

Clara managed to snatch her gaze away and she slowly turned, walking back to the bedroom. "Do what you want with him." She murmured to John emotionlessly. "Turn him into the British."

Clara had barely reached the bedroom door, when she heard a loud crash from behind her. She turned around startled, to see John pinning Golovin up against the wall. John's actions were full of rage as he held his hands tight around Golovin's neck, choking him in seconds.

John allowed his body to fall to the floor before turning around to face a very shocked Clara. She looked from John to the body, unsure of what to say or do. She looked up to John and stared at him for a minute, trying to tell him what she couldn't ever form in words. The anger towards Golovin was evident in John's eyes. His whole body seemed to radiate his fury, but it somehow relaxed her to know that this was because of her own hurt.

They put the body in a bag and drove to the river. After covering the body in acid and filling the bag with stones, they dumped it so it would never be found underneath the murky waters of the Thames.

Clara looked down for the entire journey back, not making a sound. John tried to keep himself together for her sake, knowing that she could break at any moment. She always held all of her emotions in to avoid being broken, because that's what she was inside; broken.

When they arrived back at the apartment, John went straight to the bedroom so he could sleep. Clara locked up before following him there and sitting beside him on the bed, slowly trying to think of what she could possibly say to him.

She put her hand in his lap, when she found no words and realised that only actions would do. He looked into her eyes for a moment, finally seeing behind her façade. She was so hurt and distressed, but she could still love. Clara leant in slowly and began to kiss him, her eyes drooping shut. John responded gently, his hands coming up cup her face. He knew that this was her way of finally accepting him as someone she cared about.

The kiss gained more and more passion as Clara climbed over to straddle him. She ran her fingers through his hair before running her nails gently down his clothed back. He sighed at the sensation and she began to unbutton his shirt, hesitantly at first and then gradually gaining speed as her confidence grew.

He kissed her with everything he knew. He knew he felt something strong for her, whether that be love or just a good friendship.

She removed his shirt and he let her hands roam his chest. As her fingers trickled down lower, he moved them onto the middle of the bed and swapped them around so he was on top.

He left one hand cupping her face, their lips locked, and his other hand tugged at the bottom of her shirt, requesting permission. Her shirt was quickly removed and soon, so was the rest of restricting clothing.

He lay Clara down gently, kissing her slowly. He was asking a question, which she answered when she wrapped her legs around his waist. This wasn't an act of true love. They couldn't describe what exactly it was, but they knew that it was right; for them.

She gasped into his neck as they joined, kissing it and sinking her teeth in gently to make a light mark. He cried out at the sensation, holding her tighter.

Each move was a dance, perfectly timed as they built up to the end, spinning and moving together.

She saw the stars behind her eyes and collapsed into his soothing arms with a lustful kiss on his lips. He whispered her name before he fell beside her, pulling her in close. He ran his fingers through her hair as she rested her head upon his chest.

"I'm sorry." Clara whispered, trailing her finger up and down his chest.

"Why are you sorry?" John replied, leaning down to kiss her forehead as he stroked small strands of hair out of her face.

"For everything." She whispered. "For what happened earlier when I shouted at you. For always shouting at you..." He cut her off with a kiss, holding her tighter.

"You had every right to hate me. Don't ever be sorry." He murmured into her hair, rubbing her back soothingly.

She sighed into his chest. "We're friends right?" She asked nervously, looking up to face him. "I mean, we like each other?"

John kissed her temple and rubbed her cheek with his thumb. "Of course I like you. I like you a lot." He admitted truthfully.

She threw her leg over his to get into a more comfortable position. "Good. I like you a lot too. Although, you can annoy me a bit." She teased as she looked down and thought over something. "I don't hate you John. It's just, sometimes I don't feel like I'm me, so I can't have any emotions. I feel like I shouldn't feel anything because it's all fake" Usually, she would have scolded herself for allowing these emotions to leak through, but right now John was what she needed and she couldn't have asked for anything more. She kissed his chest before snuggling up to him and closing her eyes. "Do you know what I mean?" John nodded and she gave him a small smile. "Goodnight John."

"Goodnight, my Clara." He murmured gently.


	5. The Other Side Of Me

**Sorry for the long wait! I've just been so tired all the time lately and not feeling like writing. It will improve, I promise! Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

Clara threw her bag down on the floor as she walked in the room. It had been a long day looking after the kids and she'd ended up doing half of their homework for them, for which she was not entirely amused. It wasn't like she couldn't do it, she just did things differently to them and had to learn whole new ways.

"John?" She called through the flat. He should have been home an hour before her as she was doing an evening slot. She walked towards the bathroom and knocked twice, the door opening slightly. She frowned when she found no-one there and called his name once more.

She walked into the bedroom slowly and tutted under her breath upon seeing John asleep on the bed. She walked over to him and was going to join him, when she saw a screwed up piece of paper in his hand.

Clara leaned over to John to see tear stains on his cheeks and she grew extremely concerned. As much as she'd deny it, she loved John in a way. They'd grown closer as of late and she found herself caring for him much more. Without waking him up, she removed the paper from his clenched fist and unraveled it.

Her eyes scanned over the words and she felt an anger growing in the pit of her stomach. She was about to walk away when she felt John grab her wrist suddenly.

He still looked half asleep but she had forgotten how good his reflexes were. "What are you doing?" John asked, sitting up upon realising the piece of paper he'd been holding as he slept was now in Clara's hands.

"I should ask you the same thing!" Clara snapped back. John stood up of the bed and took two small steps towards her.

"Can I just have my letter back please?" He asked calmly, clearly annoyed that she had taken it from him.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Clara murmured in horror. "We could be killed for this! They could have found us by now! We might have blown our entire mission because of this letter!"

John grew annoyed. "It's just a letter Clara. It's not like..."

"It's in Russian! With top secret details and code names! It has the locations of another agent! It has our damn location!"

"Clara calm down..." John started. Clara opened her mouth to shout once again but he forced his hand over it and grabbed the back of her head so she couldn't pull back. "It doesn't matter, okay?"

She stayed calm, long enough for him to release his grip on her head. Then the full fury kicked in.

"Who the hell is it from?" She asked accusingly. "Traitors?"

John's eyes grew wider at her accusation and it took al of his self-restraint not to get violent. He'd only ever been taught to release his anger on people in missions. He highly doubted it would look good though if his wife suddenly had a black eye.

"I am not a traitor Clara."

"Then why are you trading secrets?"

"They're not...they're not secrets. The code names aren't other agents Clara." He paused before taking a deep breath. "River, the sender of the letter, she...She is, I mean, she was my girlfriend. We ended it for the mission. She'd happened to be in England and found someone I work with to hand this to me."

Clara shook her head in anger. "She just write it in Russian then? Nothing suspicious at all, is it? A love letter in Russian to an alleged married man who's credentials might pop up wrong? That's going to look great in the police's eyes. Just peachy!" Clara knew that this anger was coming from some feeling of betrayal, but she refused to admit that to herself.

"It's just a letter to say hello, that's all!"

"It's dangerous."

"What's the worst that could happen?"

"Moya zhizn nye dlya vas, chtoby igrat! Ty nye yedinstvyennyy, kto dolzhyen byl idti na zhyertvy!"

John froze when he realised that Clara had not been speaking in English. Clara stopped and stared at the floor for a while too. They had not spoken Russian in nearly a year. She had no idea where her words had come from. She'd been thinking about the letter and shouting and then that came out.

"I have to go." Clara murmured, eyes still directed to the floor. John simply nodded and stayed where he was. She walked to the sofa and grabbed her bag. John made his way to the doorway of the bedroom and stared at her.

"I..." She started. "I'll be back soon." She twisted the doorknob and opened the door. As she made a step out, she remembered something vital and leaned her head back in. "Burn the letter, for all of our sakes."

Clara stepped out into the cold hallway, shivering from the sudden temperature change.

"Marriage problems?" A voice asked and Clara spun her head around to be greeted with Mr Maitland.

"Something like that." Clara replied, smiling slightly on the end.

"Sorry, I'd come down to collect my post and I heard shouting." Mr Maitland explained.

Clara smiled sweetly. "It's fine. Must have sounded pretty bad huh?" She asked cautiously.

"Just a bit." He agreed. "Well, you know, it could have been worse." He shrugged his shoulders and made his way to the stairwell.

"How so?" Clara asked, turning to face him. This time she was genuinely asking him and he shot her a friendly smile.

"You could have been fighting in German." He laughed. "Sounds quite rough to foreigners."

Clara giggled and nodded. "I guess it does." She replied. Mr Maitland began walking up the stairs slowly. After his fourth step, he turned back to Clara.

"No, even worse, Russian! Now that is one very violent language when they shout! No wonder we're at war with them! They probably just asked for a fag and were misunderstood!"

Clara bit her lip and frowned. "It's not that rough, is it?"

He turned around to face her with a puzzled look. "Where have you been living? I guess it isn't to them, but it really is to us."

Clara gave off a fake laugh and nodded her head. "Never heard the language." She lied. "I don't watch the news very often." Another lie.

"Yeah." Mr Maitland shrugged in confusion. He could have sworn she'd been watching a news broadcast about Russia with the kids when he'd got home that evening. "Goodnight Clara."

"Goodnight sir." She nodded her greeting to him before leaving the building, glad to be rid of the awkward conversation.

* * *

John heard the door click as Clara returned. He'd done as she said and burnt the letter. After two hours of thinking it over, he'd realised that Clara had been right. That letter could have cost them their lives.

He waited for Clara to come into the bedroom. When she didn't, he grew concerned and almost of out of bed to check on her. His worry died down though when he heard the kettle being put on. Clara had adopted a very British tradition of drinking tea, which he personally found despicable. He'd never in fact, tried the beverage but he wasn't too keen on doing so.

Half an hour passed before Clara came into the bedroom. He opened one of his shut eyes and saw her reach into the bottom of the wardrobe.

"What are you doing?" He asked tiredly.

"Considering you are mad and a trained killer, the couch seems like a safer place for me to sleep tonight." She muttered, pulling a duvet and pillow out into her arms.

"Clara..." John whined. "I'm not angry anymore. You can sleep in the bed." He said simply.

"It's not Friday." Clara spat. "I'm not your toy."

John raised his hands in defence. "I was suggesting that, and since when has the Friday rule come back into play?"

"Since my _husband_ is an arsehole."

Clara turned to face him and scowled. John looked towards her and had the overwhelming urge to hug her. She looked so adorable when she pulled a face, which he would never admit to her.

"And my _wife_ is stubborn. Just get in Clara." John groaned.

Clara stared at him angrily before dropping the bedding and making her way to her side of the bed. She slipped off her shoes before slipping under the covers fully clothed.

John chuckled at her before turning in her direction. "Not changing?"

"Don't want to." She mumbled, lying down under the covers and turning away from John.

He lifted his hand and lightly drew random patterns on her back with his finger. The feeling calmed Clara enough to make her turn around.

"There you are." John murmured, stroking two fingers down the side of her face. "Thought you'd disappeared."

Clara raised her eyebrows at his awful attempt at a joke. "What do you want?" She asked exasperatingly.

"Doctor." John whispered after a few moments silence. "The person in the letter called Doctor was me. River is her codename. We haven't seen each other in two years. We were in love once, I think. So long ago now I can barely remember."

Clara frowned. "Why Doctor? And River?"

"Because I lived opposite a hospital and she lived opposite a river as a child."

The following silence went on far too long for Clara's liking.

"I didn't mean to upset you earlier, it's just I..." he began.

"I understand." Clara smiled.

"It had never occurred to me that it could cause trouble. It was...stupid. I should have left all that back at home." He muttered.

"Yeah it was stupid." She agreed. John smiled at pecked her lips cautiously. When he realised she wasn't angry or complaining, he opened his arms and pulled her in for a hug.

Clara buried her face into his chest, seeking some comfort which, although this wasn't the ideal place, she couldn't find anywhere else.

John pushed her hair back from her neck and began lightly kissing the soft patch of skin.

Clara whimpered in complaint and he ceased his actions. "According to that handy alarm clock you bought, it's 12.03. That means it's Friday."

She hadn't intended on agreeing with him, but she did. She somehow found comfort in the warmth of his body. He was the only security she had anymore and that particular quality made him slightly more endearing.

She hoped she wasn't, for the problem of getting too attached, beginning to develop feelings for John even though she knew deep inside that they had already dropped their anchors on her heart.


	6. Maybe We Mean Something

**Sorry for the long wait! A new chapter for you here filled with lots of fluff and other stuff. :)**

**Thank you to all who have read and reviewed! xo**

* * *

Clara felt her face being flicked by the children. "Stop it." She mumbled. She'd fallen asleep on the job after having a restless night on a mission.

"Clara!" Artie shouted in her face to wake her up. "There's a strange man at the door asking for you."

Clara immediately jumped up. "You answered the door?" She cried, running to check who it was.

"You wouldn't wake up!" Angie complained, following her to the doorway. She quickly straightened out her hair and then opened the door. She was relieved to find it was just John.

"It's just my husband, don't worry kids." She said to them smiling. "You coming in?" She asked John sweetly.

John found it very amusing how Clara had picked up a Northern accent even more, although she was meant to be from Blackpool. He'd suspected she'd lose it living in London but she hadn't.

"Actually..." John started, shuffling his feet. "Can we talk outside?" He looked at Clara nervously and she knew the kids were eyeing her.

She turned back to them and smiled. "I'll be five minutes, okay?" She asked them.

"Yeah whatever." Angie murmured, walking to the fridge to get out something to eat.

Clara stepped into the hallway and looked around for other people. She knew he probably had something to tell her about the job. He always had that specific look, but this time it also had a hint of nervousness in it.

"What do they want us to do?" She asked quietly, mumbling in case the kids were listening in.

John took a few deep breaths, straightening himself out. "They've said we've been married for nearly a year now and that we...um..." He kept thinking of ways to put it and Clara got annoyed by his lack of speaking skills in that moment.

"Well spit it out." She complained, folding her arms and legs casually.

"They want you to be pregnant within the year." John mumbled, barely moving his mouth. Clara only just heard what he said but it was enough to make her face drop shape by a mile.

"What?" She whispered shakily. "I mean..." She put her head in her hands to think for a minute. "I knew this had to happen, I just...I didn't think I'd be so shocked about it."

She twisted her fingers around each other and waited for John to speak. "It doesn't have to be right away. We can wait a while, you know?"

Clara paused to take a breath, contemplating it before shaking her head slowly. "This basically means "as soon as possible." We can't afford to wait. We should...we should try as soon as we can, you know?"

John nodded awkwardly, unsure of how he could respond in this situation. Clara looked everywhere else in the hallway but John, desperate to not make eye contact with him.

After about a minute of an exhausting silence, John opened his arms up and took a step forward. "C'mere." He said sweetly.

Clara fell into John's chest, pulling her arms in tight and closing her eyes. He kissed her hair a few times, stroking it at the same time. They may have been in an awkward situation and not entirely happy about it, but they couldn't deny that a hug wouldn't do them any good. Clara knew John was one of her greatest friends, she'd even say she loved him if she would allow herself to feel that. She was determined not to as this was not a marriage of love. This marriage was for work and for a mission and she couldn't allow her feelings to come ahead of that at any point. That's why it was easier to stay detached.

But the longer they spent time together, being there for one another and pretending to be married, the harder it was going to be for them to not have feelings. That point is inevitable. John had tried to be a good husband and remain distant and he'd very quickly realised it wouldn't work.

It was just having a baby that put it all into context for them. Most children grow up, imagining they will meet the love of their lives and live happily ever after with several children and a good job. Even as an adult, realising that everything in your life will be determined by someone else is a hard concept to grasp and to realise that your childhood dream will never come true is even harder.

In honesty, Clara felt too young. She was nearly twenty-one, but she still felt like a child at heart. John was twenty-two soon and that was still incredibly young. Clara didn't understand why they wanted them to have a child so quickly. It didn't seem that practical to her and she knew it wasn't the most appropriate age within England.

After all these thoughts ran through her head, Clara stood back from John and gently rubbed her eyes to stop any oncoming tears. "I'll see you tonight, yeah?" She asked with a hoarse voice.

"Yeah." He smiled at her and she returned it willingly. As John started to move away, she turned back to the door and opened it. She wasn't at all surprised when she saw the two children standing close to the door as they had been listening in.

"Clara?" Artie asked innocently. "Are you having a baby?"

Clara wasn't entirely sure how to answer him and was grateful when Angie elbowed him in the chest to buy her some time.

"No pea brain, but she's planning it with her husband. Aren't you Clara?" Angie said happily.

"Umm..." Clara started, blinking away all thought in her head momentarily. "Yeah, yes I am."

Artie walked over to her and gave her a hug, wrapping his arms around her small body and she choked a small cough. "Then why are you crying Clara?" He asked quietly.

Clara looked down to him with an unexpected maternal feeling. She knelt down so her eyes were at his level and ruffled his hair. "Because my Mum won't be able to see the baby and I just miss her." She smiled.

Initially, she had been upset because she was still unsure of having a child, but putting into perspective what she had just said, she wished more than anything that her mother would be there for her in this moment. She always knew what to say and it killed Clara that she could never speak to her again.

"I miss my Mum too." Artie muttered. Clara's heart broke at his words and she pulled him in for a tight hug, kissing his forehead gently.

"Hey, you know what?" She asked sweetly, opening her other arm up for a hesitant Angie to join in. "As your Dad is back late tonight, how about we make hot chocolate watch TV and eat some marshmallows. I have some in my flat."

Artie's face lit up by the sound of marshmallows and even Angie looked happy. Artie ran off to his room to grab his pyjamas eagerly but Angie stayed back for a moment.

"I know what you're doing for him." The girl began. "But you're not our Mum."

"I'm not trying to be." Clara replied. "I know how it feels to lose a Mum and no-one will ever replace her." She looked as honest as she could towards Angie, hoping that would be enough for her. The girl grunted before going off to her room to get her pyjamas. Clara waited until they were gone to quickly sneak downstairs and get the treats.

* * *

After many marshmallows and lots of fun huddled up on the sofa, Clara put Artie to bed. He was only nine and Clara actually enjoyed making sure he was happy.

"Clara?" he asked as he lay down. "Could you sing me a lullaby? My Mum used to do it and I miss it."

Clara opened her mouth to object, but the look in the boy's eyes told her she shouldn't. "I don't really sing." She said quietly. "And I don't know too many lullabies."

Artie shook his head gently. "Well what do you know?"

Clara considered her next words for a moment. "I know a few that aren't in English. They're still nice though."

"Could you still sing it to me?" He asked tiredly, yawning at the end.

Clara nodded and lifted his covers so he could properly tuck himself in. Once he was ready, she begun to sing. The words rolled of her tongue as he Mother had once sung them to her.

It was always her favourite lullaby. Even once he fell into a light sleep, she carried on singing. When the song ended, she checked to see Artie was asleep, brushing his hair out of his face.

"What language is that?" Angie whispered. Clara didn't turn her head, already knowing she'd been listening at the door.

"Russian." Clara replied softly, looking down at Artie still.

Angie smiled to herself. "What does it mean?" She asked.

Clara stood up off the edge of the bed, where she was perched, and walked towards Angie. They both left the room, turning out the light.

"It means "Sleep now, close your little eyes. Bayukshi bayu." Clara murmured affectionately.

"What does that last thing mean?"

"It's kind of like what hushaby means." Clara explained.

Angie smiled before wrapping her arms around Clara. "Thank you." She whispered. "You made Artie so happy today and me too. I don't care if you're secretly Russian either."

Clara pulled back from the hug in a moment's shock. "What are you talking about?" She asked Angier seriously, trying not to show her panic but more her confusion.

"Nothing, I mean...it's just weird s'all. I was just joking."

Clara visibly relaxed until Angie carried on. "Because Dad told me that you said you'd never heard Russian before in your life. But you were just singing it so fluently, so obviously you have. And sometimes you swear in other languages when you don't think I'm around."

Clara felt her heart drop as Angie spoke. Only the innocence of a child could have seen all that.

"I'm..." Clara whispered. "I'm not Russian." She stuttered on her words, trying to find something she could say that would reasonable. "I was born there and moved here as a kid. Do you know what would happen to me if anyone knows I'm Russian?"

Angie looked at her comfortingly. "I know. Don't worry, I won't say anything. Does your husband know?"

Clara looked down at her feet. "Yeah he does. He understands."

* * *

Clara lay down in her bed, facing away from John. How come they always ended up like this?

Clara turned around and tapped John on the shoulder. He turned to face her and she realised the were a lot closer that she'd first realised. She opened her mouth to speak but instead he pulled her into a hug and kissed her head. "Sssh." He hushed. "We have a long time to think about it."

"I know." Clara whispered. She snuggled further into his bare chest and took comfort in knowing he was there. "I just had a thought that hit me though."

John looked down to her but she left her head into his chest. He could feel her breathing and his heart increased in speed, but she left it to go unnoticed. "What is it?" He asked gently.

"My kids, _our_ kids...they'll think they're English won't they? They'll go to English school with English friends and English jobs. I won't be able to tell them about my childhood or sing them my favourite lullabies or..." She stopped from getting herself too worked up.

"I'm sorry." John whispered. He lifted Clara's chin to place a kiss on her lips, softened slightly from the tears that had just begun to fall. He kissed away each teardrop and rubbed her back soothingly. He felt a responsibility towards Clara unlike he had anyone ever before. In his eyes, she was so young and so was he. He felt like they should be working their way through this life together and he actually knew deep down that he loved this woman he'd been paired with. She was so smart and kind and beautiful, all the things he valued in a woman.

"Why are you sorry?" Clara whispered.

"Because I can't change it for you." He replied honestly. "But I promise to try and make our kids as happy as we can. We can still sing Russian lullabies if you want to when they are babies you know?"

Clara nodded slowly, letting her eyes droop. John kissed her eyelids and she pulled her arms around him tight. "Oh John..." She whispered. "I think I...I think I love you." Tears dripped from her eyes and she didn't know why. "I'm sorry, I never meant to..."

John cut her off by pulling back and gently touching his lips to hers. "Don't ever be sorry Clara. Because you know what? I think I love you too."

Clara choked a soft sob before pulling his lips back to hers. It didn't take long before their kisses turned from gently and reassuring to lustful.

John rolled himself on top of Clara, caressing her skin lightly as she removed her nightdress. She did the same to him, pulling down his boxer shorts eagerly

Whenever their mouths weren't engaged in a blissful connection with the other, they were hot on each other's skin. Every touch made Clara feel alive and she knew that John was feeling the same way.

This time, when he pushed into her, it felt like a declaration of love. This was their new beginning. They actually wanted this and Clara knew that she wouldn't be afraid if John was by her side.

They held out for each other, trying to stay in this moment for as long as possible. After she lost all self restraint, Clara cried out John's name into kiss neck, sucking and biting behind his ear.

John followed quickly behind with her name and a long groan, before falling beside her and pulling her into his arms. He planted kisses all over her face as Clara trailed her fingers lightly down his chest from exhaustion.

They fell asleep in a tangle of limbs feeling happy and actually looking forward for what the future had in store for them.


	7. Getting Attached

**New chapter- sorry for the wait. I swear, I wrote half and then did that thing again where I forgot to write more!**

**By the way, when I wrote in Russian that meant "My life is not for you to gamble." Or roughly along those lines. I don't speak Russian so I'm not sure if that's entirely accurate. :)**

**Thanks to everyone who had read and reviewed! Hope you enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

Clara stared down at the plastic stick in her hands patiently. She was perched on the edge of the bathtub with her knees shaking. She could hear John pacing outside the door.

This was long past the first time they'd been in this situation so far. She closed her eyes and took a long breath.

The sound of her timer going off made her eyes span wide open and she peeked down to look at the results.

John jumped to face Clara as he heard the bathroom door click open. She came out to face him. He tilted his head slightly in a questioning manner and she responded with a small shake of her head.

John simply nodded at the information and looked away, walking out of the bedroom to get his things ready for work. Clara followed after getting dressed, putting on the kettle and some bread in the toaster.

She now had a part-time job at the local school as a teaching assistant. She wanted to learn more about English education before she attempted it herself.

She was silent as John walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her petite frame. He kissed her shoulder gently and in a comforting manner.

"I've been thinking John." Clara murmured slowly. "What if...what if I can't have kids?"

John stilled behind her before holding her tight again. "What makes you say that?" He asked gently.

"The fact that we still haven't got anywhere. I know that it's only been four months but...well, it's not like we haven't been trying very hard is it?"

John nodded and tugged on her shoulder so she would turn to face him. He enveloped her into his chest and kissed her hair. "You shouldn't think that just yet. We've got a while."

Clara held onto him for a few minutes in silence before coughing and excusing herself. "I'm going to work." She said to inform him as she grabbed her bag and left the house, leaving the kettle to boil and the toast to burn.

She helped out one of the English teachers, Tom, most of the time. She got along with him well and he was very helpful to her. He also liked her a little more than he should, but Clara didn't hold him against it.

* * *

She was picking up paper from the floor after a year seven lesson where they had cut out and stuck down some sentences when Tom approached her.

"Clara?" He asked gently. "Are you okay? You seem a little stressed." He asked with concern, his hand finding the spot between her shoulder blades as she stood up.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She murmured absent-mindedly. She took the papers in her hand to the bin at the other end of the classroom, aware Tom was following her. She dropped them into the black tub and turned to face Tom, his proximity closer than she'd first thought.

She took a step back awkwardly and coughed. Tom raised his eyebrows at her rather than repeating the question and she shrugged. "Just some marriage problems, you know." She mumbled. "They don't matter."

"Come on Clara, tell me." Tom pleaded, hoping she could treat him as a friend.

She sighed and closed her eyes for a brief moment before opening them again. "I thought I was pregnant..." Tom's eyes widened as Clara continued. "And before you even give me that face, I'm not! I just thought I was and really need to be."

Clara realised her slip on words quickly. "Want to be, even." She corrected, hoping it would slip his mind.

Tom pulled out a chair at one of the desks and pointed at Clara to sit down. He took one beside her and turned his body towards her. "You're so young though Clara. Surely you don't want it now?"

Clara shook her head, unsure if it was agreeing with him or in denial. "It's what John wants and what I want and so it's what's best." She hoped that would be enough to keep Tom happy and it seemed it was as he stood back up.

"Whatever you say." Tom shrugged. "You're not going to tell me the truth so there's no point in doing anything."

Clara opened her mouth to protest but Tom raised a finger at her. "I know you're lying, which is fine. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. Just, don't let yourself get somewhere you don't want to be. Can you promise me that?"

Her heart broke at his genuine concern. He must have thought her husband was pressuring her or something. "Course I can." She smiled, standing up to pull him into a hug. His arms rubbed her back soothingly.

They broke apart when the hug went on a little too long for Clara's liking. Tom was a sweet guy but she had her own partner, as twisted and messed up as that relationship was.

Clara left the school at two every day so she could pick up the Maitland's from their school. Working part-time had it's perks for that, although she would have to look after them until five.

When the kids came out, the rain was coming down in heaps and bounds. She cursed herself for not bringing a coat or an umbrella. Both children had coats but they were wearing school shoes and thin jumpers.

She was going to make a run for it when she noticed a familiar car outside the gates and she grinned to herself, grabbing the children's hands and running towards it.

"Quick, get in!" She shouted to the children who hastily opened the back car door. Clara hopped in the front, throwing her arms around John happily.

"Thank God!" She gasped. "I thought we might drown on the way home!"

John laughed. "I thought you would too." She pulled back and placed a small kiss on his lips to the disgust of Angie and Artie.

Clara smiled and kissed him again before strapping on her seatbelt. "How come you're not at work?" She asked happily.

"I just wanted to see you!" John chirped. Clara raised an eyebrow and he cowered under he stare. "And the boiler may have broken so we were all sent home." He mumbled.

Clara laughed as the car set off. "How about you guys come over to ours for a bit?" John asked the children. "I have lots of sweets and fun stuff and Clara can get a rest."

They looked nervously at each other. "I'll leave a message for your Dad on the desk if he doesn't realise that you're already with us?" Clara offered. They both nodded happily but unsurely.

Clara was relieved to get back to the flat. She collected the post as she walked through the door before walking to the TV to turn it on for the kids and walking to her bedroom to get a rest.

John ran straight to the cupboards and pulled out a massive supply of chocolate and sweets Clara didn't even know they owned. "And where on Earth did those things come from?" She asked sternly.

The kids both giggled and grinned at John. "The shop?" John suggested. Clara tutted and rolled her eyes and John sighed from relief that he wasn't about to be on the receiving end of her shouts. They actually scared him sometimes.

John ran to the sofa and patted the spaces beside him form the children to sit next to him. They ran eagerly, watching the cartoon on TV. Clara peeped around the bedroom door disapprovingly. "Don't eat too many sweets or you won't eat your dinner and then you'll be in trouble!" She warned.

"We won't!" The youngsters chanted at the same time.

"I was talking to all three children!" She laughed. John lifted his hand up, a bar of chocolate in his hand.

"I won't!" He called. Clara giggled before walking to her bed and getting under the covers to rest. She fell asleep as she listened to the sound of the three of them laughing.

* * *

She was awoken by John shaking her gently. "Hey, wake up." He soothed. He planted a kiss on her forehead as she sat up. "You fell asleep with the letters in your hand." John explained as she saw opened envelopes on the bed.

"Oh, anything interesting?" She asked dully as she yawned. She saw John go silent out of the corner of her eye. "What? What is it?" She asked, her hand immediately cupping his face in concern.

"I just have a mission. I need to seduce this girl. She is secretary to the British ambassador of America. I'm going to be out quite a lot for a while. She cant suspect me so it will be like proper dates and stuff."

Clara nodded as she quickly jumped out of bed. Their voices were quiet and she assumed the kids were still there as she could still hear the TV. "Yeah, of course. Starting tonight yeah?" She asked, rubbing her hand against her forehead.

"Yeah." John muttered. "Anyway, I made the kids dinner. It was proper food too! Sausages and mash with peas!"

Clara turned around, eyebrows raised in an impressed fashion. "Well done mister." She said cheekily. She walked over to him and planted a sneaky kiss on his lips. "I'm feeling proud."

John hummed. "And what are you going to do about that?" He asked seductively, his voice dropping in sound.

"The kids are next door." Clara whispered, shaking her head with small smile on her face.

John faked a shocked expression. "I wasn't implying _that at all._" He gasped cheekily. "Why would you even think that?" He laughed. "No, I was simply thinking of doing...this."

John attacked Clara's sides as he tickled her and she cried out for mercy. Her laughter was loud as she begged him to stop. He'd recently found out she was ticklish and he loved to tickle her more than anything. One hand went to her neck and screamed out in defeat. "No!" She laughed, trying to push his hands away.

After about two minutes of laughter, she shrugged his hands off her. "Okay, enough, enough." She laughed, grin plastered onto her face.

She leant in and kissed her once more. "Come on." He muttered, his head jerking towards the door as they went out to get the kids.

She was thankful that their eyes were glued onto the television screen with their dinner's in their lap. Everything was eaten except the peas and Clara tutted as she came into view of them. "If you don't eat your peas then you don't get ice cream." She laughed.

Their eyes widened at the word "ice-cream" and from then, it was a competition on who could gobble down the peas the fastest.

They both raised their plates in unison, Angie nudging Artie so she would be first. "Done!" She cried as she ran to the kitchen to catch John pulling the ice cream out of the freezer.

They both queued up at the freezer door and Clara laughed when she saw John's surprise as he turned around he cried out at the children's proximity. He pulled out two bowls and scooped the ice cream out for them as they giddily chatted.

Clara was tired out by the time their father knocked on the door to take them home. At least Artie and Angie were happy, which had made her feel better.

Clara sat down on the couch and closed her eyes slowly, absorbing the sudden blissful silence. She felt the cushions dip as John sat next to her and slowly began to rub her neck. She hummed in approval and moved slightly to get in a position to allow him better access to her neck.

"You're really tense." He murmured into her ear and she nodded, her eyes still closed.

"I'm just shattered all the time." She agreed, leaning her back into him and resting her head on his shoulder.

They remained in a peaceful silence for a couple of minutes as Clara against John as he rubbed her neck.

"I have that first date at eight." He admitted guiltily. Clara pretended like it hadn't made her heart sink for a moment.

"Well it's only five now, so you've got a few hours to prepare." She murmured, eyes opening as she looked away. She moved slightly away from John and began to stand up off the couch.

"You know that's three whole hours to do whatever we want?" John murmured into her ear as he leant forward and caught her arm.

"And what it is that you want?" Clara teased quietly, smiling although she didn't want him to see it.

"We could have another go for a baby, if you want?" He asked slowly. He sounded like he was hesitant to ask after her outburst this morning. Clara took a deep breath as if she were considering his offer although her mind was already made up.

She turned around slowly to see him gazing at her. She twisted her body and lent over him, her lips capturing his in a passionate attack. He responded enthusiastically, grabbing her body and flipping it underneath his, causing Clara to let out a shriek of surprise.

Her body sank into the pillows as she smiled up at him. She wouldn't tell him her true concern with this particular mission because in all honesty, she couldn't understand why she was upset herself. It was a standard mission that she understood well so she couldn't get why it was bothering her that much.

All of her heavy thinking left her head as John's body pressed down to hers.

* * *

Later, she lay in bed alone after John left. She was still puzzling out what it was that was annoying her so much about this mission.

When she was with John, Clara felt happy usually. When he kissed her neck or gave her a compliment, she would be filled with an overwhelming feeling inside that she couldn't shake. It was the same feeling she got when she told John to put his clothes in the wash basket or shouted at him for leaving up the toilet seat strangely enough.

She could only think of it as belonging. It was like he was at home with her. She hadn't felt at home in a long time. She'd never really had a solid home but anything she associated with that word died when she was sixteen years old.

She'd never intended to become so attached to John, it had just...happened. Like a wave crashing on the sand, it was inevitable and as much as she tried to stop it, there was no way she could.

There was a reason she didn't get attached. She was a curse. Just to add to that belief, their entire relationship was based on work and duty rather than love. In the end, if they had to, they would put their job first because that's all this marriage was; a job.

Clara thought herself to sleep, still worrying in her head.

John opened the door and heard the heavy silence. The lights were all still on but no-one was in sight. "Clara?" He shouted, looking around for her.

He smiled when he opened the bedroom door and saw her asleep on top of the bed. He took of his shoes, trousers and shirt and lay down beside her, pulling her into his arms.

She shifted and mumbled as she slightly woke. "Hey there sleepyhead." He teased, kissing her on the nose as her eyes still drooped and fought to stay open.

"What time s'it?" She moaned, curling up into John's chest.

"Midnight. Happy tomorrow." He shut his eyes when he felt Clara's smile in his skin. She tangled her legs with his and gripped onto him.

"Did it go well?" She asked after a minute or two.

"Yeah, she bought it and I have a second date." He smiled. He felt Clara's smile drop a little as she shuffled in his arms once more to find a comfier position. This time her head was facing away from him as she lay on her front. It wasn't fully turning her back and she may have not even done it intentionally, but it was clear she was upset.

John tapped her shoulder after pressing a light kiss to it. "What's wrong?" he asked with genuine concern.

"Nothing." She grumbled into the pillow. After a few seconds of shuffling around once more, she lifted the sheets and tucked herself under them. John followed her actions and wrapped his arms around her before she had a chance to turn away from him.

"Now, look at me and tell me the truth." He raised his eyebrows at her and she darted her eyes downwards.

"I said nothing didn't I?" She argued.

"Yes, but I can tell when you lie to me." He said softly. He pulled her chin in for a small kiss, studying her expression when he pulled back. "So tell me the truth."

Clara took a few breaths, deciding on what it really was that was the matter. She couldn't focus on one thing she thought it was. After what seemed like an hour of thinking, she opened her mouth to speak. "I just...I feel...abandoned."

"Abandoned?" John asked in disbelief, unsure of where that emotion had come from.

She nodded slowly and looked away, trying to sink her face back into the pillow once more. "I don't know...I just keep thinking about if I get pregnant and you're...you know, out on dates every night and missions and I'm left here with the baby to clean up after you and it's just made me feel very...abandoned."

John listened to every word Clara said carefully, making sure he didn't miss a beat. His face twisted in concern throughout her speech and he was unsure of how to reply to that. "But Clara, this is our job. This is what we do. We have to do these missions because that's why we're here."

"I know." She whispered. "It just hurts when I think about it."

"Think about what?" John questioned, noticing his tone was getting unintentionally angrier. "How everything in our lives is fake. Everything we do has no meaning because that's what we have been trained to do. There's nothing left to think about Clara."

"Do you really think that?" She whispered. Her voice was thick and John could tell that she might have been crying if she didn't have iron walls that surrounded her emotions.

"I don't think that Clara, it's what it is." He said clearly. "You know that."

Clara looked down as she bowed her head in sorrow. "Yeah, I do." She said blankly. Her walls were back up again and any sign of weakness had gone.

She waited until he fell asleep to wriggle out of his arms and turn away to think. Their marriage had no true meaning behind it. There wasn't any love, not in John's mind anyway. She'd thought that maybe there was. That's why she would carry on playing the part and do her job. That's what they were there to do anyway. They were not meant to get emotionally attached for a reason and Clara now knew that better than anyone.


	8. What Might Kill You

**New chapter! Early update- hope you like this! Yes, John is being an outright dick at the moment. Good news, that will end in about two chapters. Bad news, you're going to have to endure this one where he is pretty awful.**

**Thanks to all those who have read and reviewed! It means a lot to me! **

**Shiri xo**

* * *

Clara spent the next few weeks being as professional as she could be. John barely noticed her acting different at all. At least, he didn't for a while.

He first got a glimpse of it when he tried to come onto her one night and she pulled away. At first, her reaction had stunned him. He'd asked if there was a problem of that it was just her time of the month. When she'd told him that she just didn't feel up to it, he wasn't entirely sure how to react. She'd not been as cold to him as she was being, for at least six months. He wasn't used to the rejection. He also noticed that her heart was never in it when they slept together. It was almost like she was just going through the motions and pretending for his sake. It wouldn't have been very noticeable if he didn't know her so well.

Whenever they went out on missions, she was efficient and quick in her jobs. It had slightly shocked John when she lost her patience quickly with someone they'd abducted and just shot him in the head. It was extremely unlike her to be so harsh. It had even scared him slightly and he was glad he hadn't been that man in the back, although the way she was acting at the time, he wasn't entirely sure she wouldn't have shot him if it was.

Two months after she had started acting differently, he found her sat on the sofa as he got back from work. This wasn't a day she looked after the kids and usually she worked on other things instead, but she was just staring at the wall blankly.

"Are you...okay?" He asked carefully as he walked over to her, keeping a safe distance.

Clara nodded and looked up at him. "Course I am. I always am." She gave him a false smile which he saw right through before standing up and walking towards the bedroom. John eyes followed her slowly as he went to sit down on the sofa.

"Oh, John?" She called blankly, turning around. She pressed a hand to her head as if she'd just forgotten something. He turned around quickly and looked over to her. she diverted her eyes from his casually, as if they'd never made proper eye contact before.

"I'm pregnant." She said simply. She then walked into the bedroom and shut the door behind her, leaving John to sit in the living room and think over what she'd just said. He opened and closed his mouth twice as he decided to go to her.

He knocked gently on the door. "Clara?" Clara, can I come in?" He called.

When he heard no reply, he opened the door and found Clara wasn't there. He looked towards the adjoining bathroom and heard water running. His feet moved before he'd told them to and he found himself turning the handle on the door and opening it slowly.

Clara looked towards the door knowing he was coming in. She couldn't think of a way to leave the bathroom without it being clear she was avoiding him as she'd only been in the shower for a few seconds. She waited to hear what he was doing. She heard his trousers hitting the floor and his shirt.

A few moments later, he pulled back the shower curtain and got under the searing water behind Clara. He didn't want to say anything about how the water was burning his skin in case it made her angry. She looked fine under it and so he kept his mouth shut.

She was facing away from him, reaching down to grab some shampoo. When she stood back up, he wrapped his arms around her stomach and kissed her shoulder.

She shivered uncomfortably under his touch as his hands moved to caress her stomach. She allowed them to roam as they wished, ignoring the man behind her. She rubbed shampoo into her hair and he released his arms to allow her to wash it out. She then did her conditioner and washed it out hastily. The moment that was done, she got out of the shower.

"You can have it to yourself now." She smiled at him as she stepped out onto the mat. The way she said it sounded kind, but John knew it was the opposite of that. In that moment, he was grateful for the strong heat so he could focus on that rather than the fact his own wife was barely speaking to him.

She lay asleep that night, arms curled protectively around herself from instinct. He lightly stroked her spine and she mumbled in her sleep but didn't wake up. "I hope you're okay Clara." He whispered to her, his heart suddenly full of something he couldn't explain.

Knowing that the child was his brought out a whole new side to him. It wasn't anything he'd thought he'd get, fatherly feelings. It was the knowledge that he'd have someone who loved him unconditionally in the world that made his heart swell with love. No-one had ever loved him permanently. Everyone in his life had left him at some point. Even Clara, although maybe not physically, detached herself emotionally.

He thought about how their child might look. Clara eye's and his rocket-fin ears with no sense of where their hands should go but the kindness of their mum.

Like it once had Clara, the thought that there children would be British haunted him. He wouldn't be able to tell them anything of his own childhood or sing them any of his favourite nursery rhymes. Everything they did with them would be built on a fake relationship. They would have to lie to them as they would never be allowed to know what their parents really were. If they ever did find out, they'd probably resent him.

* * *

Clara woke the next morning to find John had already woken. She was grateful it was the weekend as everything would finally calm down. She'd barely had time to think about being pregnant at all. She'd informed their boss the night before, who had given her their congratulations, even though she knew they were just happy their plan was finally in action.

She walked into the living room and saw John sitting on the sofa watching TV. She sat down beside him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. She found that an action to be seen as affectionate which she could get away with.

John didn't turn to look at her like he usually did. This time, he stayed staring at the TV.

They stayed in silence for the entire morning, sat on the couch beside each other. The only sound was the television.

At twelve, John stood up abruptly. "Lunch?" He asked to Clara.

"Yes please." She whispered. She wasn't used to his abruptness, although she was aware that he was very well acquainted with hers. He didn't face her at all and it made her feel rejected.

Just as he begun to move, Clara stood too. "What's wrong John?" She mumbled. He froze in his movements before slowly turning to face Clara. He took a few steps towards her, until their bodies were practically up against each other, and looked down.

"What's wrong?" He mocked. "Nothing." He said loudly. "Nothing at all. I'm completely fine. It's not like I've been ignoring you for _that_long is it? I'm sorry if I have. Is two months too much time for you?"

"John, I know that's it's..." Clara started, realising what he was getting at.

"It's not like I run away from my significant other when I tell them something important in life. I can't see what could possibly be wrong with _me_ at all. I don't give someone silent treatment for no reason either. You know, all these traits remind me of a _certain little someone_ who..."

"Oh, shut up John before you say something you think is clever that you actually don't understand!" Clara shouted at him, losing her temper.

"Oh, are you saying that I don't understand anything?" He shouted back.

"You think you know it all, when in reality you don't. You know nothing!" She retorted.

Pent up anger was a scary thing. It only took one small thing for it to be released in floodwaves and Clara knew that if she didn't shut up now, she'd say something she couldn't take back.

"It's not like you know anything about how to treat your _husband_!" He snarled, clenching his jaw in anger.

"It's not like you actually know how to love anyone!" She shrieked breaths were heavy and her face was screwed up.

Her words sliced John like a knife and he stilled, even more fury growing inside of him. "That's because I'm not fucked up in my head and have a need to be loved by someone, unlike _you_." He spat.

Clara allowed the silence to hit her for a moment before she began to shout again."You know, at least when this fucking baby comes I will have someone who will love me. You're just a lonely sad twat who has to accept the fact that not even his own child will love him."

John immediately regretted walking towards Clara because he was directly shouting in her face. He could feel the words coming out of his mouth before he'd even thought over them. "At least I wasn't weak enough to be raped by my own superiors." He spat the work "weak" into her face and she flinched from the harshness of it.

Clara froze, anger boiling over her face. John had known he'd crossed a line that he might not ever get back over. "At least I've never tried to sell out my own country." She spat, desperate to make him hurt like he had just her. "You have no loyalty to the motherland! You would sell us out to England if you could. So why don't you?" She began to shout at the top of her lungs, screaming half of her words. "John Smith is a fucking KGB agent who has killed half of the bloody British government. He gets a real kick out of it! You should see his bloody face when he beats someone to death! He enjoys it because he hates everyone. His own parents even hated him! He has no-one who loves him, no-one in the entire fucking world who gives one tiny shit about..."

Clara was cut off by John's fist colliding with her face and she fell backwards, stumbling back against the sofa and down to the floor. The pain immediately flared up and she felt a sharp sting remain. She could still feel his fist dented into her face. Clara looked slowly down to the floor, breathing hard as she lightly touched her eye.

She knew that her eyebrow has split from the impact and her vision was slightly blurry. She was suspended in a moment of time. Her brain was on overload, millions of things going through her head at once but she just froze, unsure of what was next. She could hear John's breaths, heavy as he stayed staring at her tiny frame that was now seeming smaller than ever.

He couldn't move himself. He wasn't certain on what there was he could do. This was the crushing point in their relationship, if it could even be called that.

After a few moments, Clara stood up steadily and walked away from him, step by step. Her vision was still blurry as her eyes stayed trained on the floor, and she felt sick, but she needed to leave the apartment. She grabbed her coat and bag when she reached the door and ran out of the flat as quickly as she could.

When she stood outside, she was greeted with a concerned George Maitland running down the stairs of the building hurriedly. "Clara are you okay?" He asked, running over to her. He was clearly in a panicked concern as he ran over to could see her eye was red and already beginning to bruise, and the cut on her eyebrow showed clear as daylight. "I heard people shrieking at each other so I came down to check nothing had happened." He rushed, knowing the answer to that already.

Clara stalled before she managed to find her voice in her haste. "Yeah, I...I'm fine." She lied as convincingly as she could, which wasn't anywhere near as good as it should have been. "Just a small fight, s'all."

George began to look furious as he took another step towards Clara. "Then how come you look like you've just been punched in the face?" He said as calmly as he could. His anger was clearly directed towards John. Clara was so small and innocent and John was strong and tall. It wouldn't have taken much for John to do this.

Clara shrugged her shoulders and let off a fake chuckle. "Me and John had been shouting and I thought I'd clear my head. I walked into an open cupboard when I was looking for my keys. We're always arguing about him leaving them open and it made me even angrier." She smiled at him once more but nothing she'd said seemed to ease his concerned expression.

"Clara, you should call the police." George began. "This should be..."

"You know I've really got to go. Thanks for your concern but it's all fine. Bye!" She said quickly, running out of the building and into her car before George had time to say another word.

* * *

She arrived back several hours later. As she parked her car, she noticed the police car sitting outside the apartment block. Her first thought was that they'd been caught. She must have been overheard earlier. She ran inside the building and walked into the open apartment quickly.

John was sat on the sofa with two policemen next to him and one other policeman was at the door.

"Clara!" He cried, causing the policemen to turn.

"What's going on?" She said as casually as she could. The police all looked to each other and then back to her in confusion.

"We had a report of domestic abuse at this address. Miss Oswald, please can you tell me what happened here at around noon today?" A police woman who Clara hadn't noticed in the corner of the room said. She walked up to Clara and stroked her shoulder sympathetically.

Clara looked to John to see him rolling his eyes. She smiled at him as if it were all some big joke. "I had a fight with my husband. He's always leaving the bloody cupboard doors open and then, coincidentally as I was finding my keys, I walked into one. For him, it hits his shoulder but I'm at eye level!"

She tried to make it sound like she was saying it in disbelief . The woman next to her stroked her arm once more. "Would you like to come into the other room with me for a more private conversation?" She asked sweetly.

"Hang on, do you think he hit me?" Clara asked as if it was the most absurd thing she'd ever heard. "He would never hit me!" She argued. "He's really kind. Helps me look after the Maitland kids on floor three. They will tell you how nice he is. Besides, I'm pregnant! Why would he hit me?"

"Mr Maitland reported it when he saw you earlier." John moaned from the sofa, glancing up at her. "Oh and most situations where a husband hits his wife starts when a pregnancy is involved. So that just makes them more suspicious." John looked like he was bored and finding the whole thing amusing. Clara knew that they needed the police out of their house as soon as possible or their superiors would be after them again with punishments.

Clara rolled her eyes. "Oh, for goodness sake, he's just being overprotective. I don't really blame him. He heard me shouting and then saw my swollen eye. This is all one massive misunderstanding." She laughed, smiling to the serious policewoman.

Everyone looked at the couple who seemed perfectly happy around each other. John stood up to walk over to her and the man beside his set a hand on his chest. "Can I just talk to her?" He asked, sounding exasperated.

They finally nodded their head after a silent discussion between them and John walked towards Clara. "Sorry about the cupboard." He winced as he approached her, his fingers coming up to gently caress the massive bruise on her face.

"Sorry you have the police thinking you're some wife abuser." She replied and they both shared a laugh. They knew how to play the game and make it look like they were fine.

"I swear to tape the cupboards shut so this never happens again." He smiled.

Clara almost wanted to believe this fake story. "You better do mister." She smiled. She leant forward and quickly kissed him, then wrapping her arms around him in a massive hug.

The police soon decided that there was no real threat in their household. They wrote down their statements and filed them in case anything like this were to come up again, before bidding the "happy couple" goodnight.

Once they had been gone long enough, Clara walked to the bedroom and pulled a duvet out of the cupboard. She walked back into the living room and laid it out on the sofa, grabbing a cushion and putting it beneath her head space. Then she took of her shoes and coat before climbing under the covers and closing her eyes.

John watched slowly from the kitchen, understanding her message. He walked to the bedroom and shut the door. He didn't sleep that night, his mind relaying that moment in his head. He had always been taught to take out his anger on the enemy. It was unfortunate that in that moment, in his eyes, Clara had been just that. The thought of hitting her repulsed him, but he had _done_ that. He'd hurt her with his words and with his fists and that was unforgiveable.

* * *

Clara wasn't at all surprised to wake up to a letter from their superiors to go in to the headquarters as soon as possible. Inside, she was nervous. If they believed their assignment to be blow, the two of them would be shot. She showed the letter to John, not uttering a word to him at the same time. They barely exchanged glances at all during the morning and they stayed as far apart as they could.

They both dressed up, put on wigs and glasses to disguise themselves so that they would not be seen going into the Russian embassy. Clara painted over her bruise so it wasn't too noticeable, even though it was even worse now.

When they arrived, Clara was instantly grabbed by the arm and dragged into their director's office. She was to speak to Svetlana Brokovich, the head of this mission.

She looked over to John who was waiting outside before he was to be taken to another part of the building. She wasn't blind to what they were about to do. He had put them in a potentially dangerous situation and there would have to be consequences for that.

Clara sat down in the chair at the other side of the desk from her superior. She removed her wig and glasses, the waited patiently. "Tea?" The woman asked. Clara shook her head and waited silently as Svetlana poured her own. She sat down and read some paperwork.

After she took two sips, she faced Clara. "What the hell were the two of you thinking yesterday? The police were at your apartment for a spousal abuse call. Why did you call the police?" She snapped in her strong Russian accent. "Contact _us_ when this happens."

"I didn't." Clara snapped back angrily, annoyed at the accusations she was making. "A neighbour did and I think you'll know that the police don't believe anything happened there."

"Except there's now a police record on your name." She grumbled back, standing up and walking over to Clara. She lightly stroked Clara's smooth hair before outlining the massive discolouration on her eye. Clara made sure not to so much as wince when she pressed her fingers onto it. Showing pain was a weakness and she wasn't supposed to have any.

"Does it hurt?" Svetlana asked observantly, pressing her fingers down once more.

"No." Clara said plainly, making sure her eyes didn't betray her.

She pressed even harder this time and Clara made sure not to show any pain. "Don't lie to me, I know it hurts. This isn't a damn test so cut the crap Kurotkov." Svetlana snapped.

Clara flinched when she heard her surname and turned her head to her boss. "Yes, it fucking hurts." She spat. "He has a strong fucking punch, so it fucking hurts!" She shouted, turning to face Svetlana.

"You pick up way too many British idioms." Svetlana said in Russian, becoming casual. She leant back onto her desk in a more friendly manner.

Clara looked down and closed her eyes. "Sorry." She replied. Their conversation was no longer in English. It felt strange, Russian, coming off Clara's tongue. She hadn't spoken it in proper conversation for so long.

"Don't be sorry. Dolzhi- John is taking his punishment now for his actions." Svetlana muttered. "I'm sorry that he lost his control. That can't have been nice for you."

Clara looked around, not showing the hurt in her eyes. "Won't that just affect our mission more?" She asked sternly, hoping that would get John out of less trouble.

"Don't worry, it'll be fine." Svetlana assured. "Now, you have some paperwork to fill in about the incident. It needs to go on file so that all stories match up." She returned to English and the switch made Clara's ears jump.

"Okay." Clara replied uneasily, standing up and shaking Svetlana's hand before leaving the room slowly. She was taken to another area of the offices to finish off this mess.

* * *

Clara waited another hour for John to return to the lobby. He looked pained but if he was hurting, he didn't say anything. They didn't say a word to each other as hey put on their wigs and clothes before leaving calmly.

They arrived home later, walking silently into their apartment. They both walked into the bedroom and lay down silently. It was only two in the afternoon but they were both shattered. Clara turned to face away from John as he lay down on his back. She tried to ignore the fact that he winced and his breathing was ragged but she couldn't.

She turned back to face him and he looked towards her in confusion. "Turn over." She said strictly.

John slowly followed her instructions to lie on his front. Clara lifted up the shirt he was wearing to see several lacerations on his back. They weren't enough to hurt him permanently but they were enough to put him in pain. These were the punishments for failing assignments usually. They used serrated blades to cut slowly in and out of the skin.

"Oh for God's sake." She muttered under her breath before running to the bathroom and pulling out her first kid. She found the anti bacterial wipes and the bandages quickly and then ran back into the bedroom.

"I bet they didn't even sterilise the bloody knife. They never do." She mumbled. She pulled the wipe from it's packet and held it firmly in her hand. "This will sting."

She then wiped each of his wounds to stop any infection. He cried out at first before gritting his teeth. She mumbled a few apologies under breath but he didn't hear them.

She picked up the bandages before putting them back down. "It'll be better if they get access to air. Don't wear your pyjama shirt or them fibres will be caught in the wound. You can lie on me right now if it helps."

Clara lay back down and rested under the warm covers. John hesitantly put his head on her chest so he was mostly on his front. Clara stayed still as he lay there. In all honesty, the punch hadn't bothered her. She could cope with the small bruising. It was the fact he'd brought up a subject that she was ashamed to even think about. There was no way she could tell the Russian's that as they would all laugh at her. She'd thought John was better than the rest. She'd though he actually respected her, which was not the case at all. He saw her as all the rest did; weak and vulnerable. The thought plagued her as she drifted off into a deep sleep.

"I'm sorry." John whispered later, when he thought she was sleeping. "I never meant to hurt you. I'm so, so sorry." He then moved away to allow her some space, knowing that she wouldn't want him near her.

Clara didn't respond to him in anyway, even though she was actually awake. She didn't know how to. She hadn't forgiven him yet for what he done or what he'd said. She wasn't sure if she could _ever _forgive him. He'd crossed too many lines to get back from.


	9. Pushing You Away

**So sorry for the long wait! Things have just been hectic and in all my spare time I've been so tired I haven't been able to write.**

**I hope this chapter makes up for it! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and read this story! I promise that I will make sure I update way more often.**

**Sorry if there are any mistakes. I haven't proof read it yet so there could be disastrous errors like there were last chapter. Sorry!**

* * *

When two people in a marriage barely talk, things often get difficult extremely quickly.

It's hard not to drive each other insane when you won't tell the other person what you're wanting or trying to do. As much as they tried to not show it, John and Clara's relationship was slowly hurtling towards a black hole.

John tried to be as nice to her as he could be, getting her things when she needed them and making dinner for her. He didn't want to say anything in fear of making her mad.

On the Monday after the incident, Clara had wanted to curl up in a ball and die. She wasn't oblivious to the gasps in the corridors as she walked past students and they saw her bruised eye. She also was aware of the talk in the staffroom when she went to eat her lunch.

Upon retreating to the classroom to avid the chatter, Clara had bumped into Tom. He was probably the most concerned out of everyone but he was trying his hardest not to show it. He was being friendly and helpful but he wasn't pushing her to speak, which was exactly what Clara needed.

She sat with him at lunchtime and they spoke about random things. She enjoyed having Tom around. He was like an older brother to her and he genuinely cared about her , which was nice for someone who had no family nearby that she could turn to.

"So, Clara what happened?" Tom finally choked. It was the last lesson of the day and they both had a free. Clara was sat in a chair marking some papers for Tom as he sat beside her at his desk.

"It really doesn't matter." Clara muttered, turning her attention back to the assessments at hand. She could feel Tom's eyes burning holes into the side of her head and it didn't take her long to snap her head up back to him. "It doesn't." She insisted, silently pleading him to drop the topic of conversation.

"It does. Is everything alright? You know, back home?" He asked quietly, taking one of her hands in his and holding it gently.

Clara sighed and shut her eyes briefly. "It's just a bit stressful. John's really exhausted all the time so we're fighting a lot."

Tom shook his head violently in horror. "So, he just hit you? I'm sorry Clara but that's what this looks like."

Clara yanked her hand out of Tom's grip violently and shot him an angry glare. "He didn't hit me." She said as calmly as she could. She hated when it was implied that she was weak. "I'd never let him do that, I can take care of myself."

"I never said you couldn't." Tom said defensively, raising his arms slowly. "But that doesn't mean he didn't hurt you."

Clara realised she had snapped a little too angrily and muttered a small apology under her breath, unwilling to see Tom's reaction. He was far too kind to her when she didn't deserve it.

"He didn't hit me, I...I just walked into a cupboard but we were fighting at the time." She mumbled, shaking her head in small laughter. "It doesn't sound too good, I know."

Clara waited for Tom to say something, but he remained silent as he took her hand in his again. It was a kind gesture that she actually appreciated a lot. Tom was the friend she'd never realised she'd needed. He was someone she actually open up to. She often found herself cursing him for that quality as too much came out of her mouth.

"He's probably just stressed about the ba..." She choked off her word and pretend to cough, tearing her eyes as far away as she could from Tom's.

"Clara?" He asked gently, standing up to lean over and pat her on the back as she finished off her mild coughing fit. "Are you pregnant?" Hid voice was gently and soft but it only made Clara feel worse.

She nodded simply, not willing to see Tom's reaction. She could imagine it would be one of shock. He was always making comments about how lever she was for someone so young. He would almost definitely not approve of her being pregnant. It made her feel guilty before she remembered that it hadn't exactly been her idea and she didn't really have a choice in the situation.

"Oh, That's...I mean, congratulations." Tom stuttered. Clara turned back to face him, wincing at his startled expression.

"Sorry." She whispered. She saw Tom's expression turn from one of shock to confusion. In an instant, he had pulled Clara into a hug which she very much needed.

"Why are you sorry?" he murmured. "I'm happy for you. I was just a little shocked." She could hear the words he was holding back from her. _Are you sure this is the right thing to do? Is John going to be a good father? Does he want this? Do you want this? _

_What does this mean for your future? _

"I know it's sudden." She began, leaning back to look into Tom's eyes. If only she could tell him the whole truth so he would understand. She wished that everything in her life wasn't so complicated. "But, we really want this. It'll be good for us."

Tom nodded and smiled. "Well, tell me all then." He chuckled, trying not to show his hurt. "Boy or girl, how far along and the like?"

Clara looked down to her feet nervously. "Umm, not sure and not sure? About eight or nine weeks I'd say and I have no idea about the gender."

Clara looked down to her stomach which still looked flat, although Clara could swear there was a slight curve to her belly. She looked back up at Tom and smiled warmly. Maybe friendship was the main thing she needed after all.

* * *

Clara was asleep on the bed when John returned home. He'd been at another date, arriving home quite late.

She was laid out on her side on the edge of the bed as she slept calmly. John stood in the doorway for a few minutes and admired the way her shoulders rose and fell with each new intake of breath. He loved how peaceful she was when she slept. He loved the way her hair fell across her face and dangled beneath her like a blanket of petals.

He couldn't help but imagine if their child would have her hair too, blowing around in the wind as they ran in the playground.

Of course he was excited for their child, any man would be. He knew it wasn't exactly what Clara had planned in her life but as much as she would try and deny it, she was happy too.

After a few minutes of watching Clara's sleeping form, John stripped down to his boxers and climbed into the bed on his side. His body was facing Clara and he inched up behind her slowly.

Brushing a few stray strands out of her face, John placed a small kiss to Clara's temple and one to her shoulder. "Goodnight Clara." He whispered, rubbing his fingers up and down her shoulder smoothly.

Her pyjama top had slightly rode down on one side, leaving her shoulder bare and he marvelled at how gently her skin was beneath his soft touch.

He barely noticed the small hum Clara gave under her breath as his fingers trailed patterns up and down her revealed skin.

"John?" She gently mumbled, eyes still shut tight. He flinched at the sudden sound and moved his body a respectable distance away.

"Yeah?" He replied softly, staring intently at her small body. He thought she might have been sleep talking as the silence hung over them for a few moments.

"You're back." Clara mumbled, rolling her body over and moving to rest her head on John's chest. Her eyes were still closed tight and John suspected that she was probably doing it sub-consciously and would regret it in the morning, but in this moment he didn't care. He pulled Clara's body to his and hugged her to him, planting a small kiss on her forehead.

She hummed once more and then mumbled something which resembled "I love you" but John couldn't quite make it out. He could tell by her breathing pattern that she was then, once again, sleeping. He closed his eyes and revelled in the feel of her warm body curled up with his.

He didn't care if she'd hate him in the morning, as long as she still gave him these small moments where he could express his love for her and the baby. He'd always said it was the small things that counted and he could only pray that these were the things that would make their relationship better.

* * *

Clara woke up the next morning, immediately feeling John's breath on her head. She tried to push away his lanky body but he was gripping onto her too tightly.

She mumbled in protest, trying to remember how they had ended up in that position. She vaguely recalled John getting into the bed but she must have been way out of it by then.

"John?" She hissed, trying to push him away once again. "John?" She said a bit more loudly, causing him to stir and slowly open his eyes.

"Hmm?" He asked weakly, still trying to pull himself out of his unconsciousness.

"You're crushing me. Let me up." Clara snapped, pushing his body away once more. The force of her words woke John up fully and he quickly retracted his arms from her so she could move out of the bed. He could tell that she wanted to be far away from him as she ran out of the bed and threw on her dressing gown and left the room.

The sharp pain of rejection hung in his chest as he slowly pulled himself out of bed and threw on some clothes that would look somewhat decent. He wished that it was a Saturday so he wouldn't have to work. As John put on his shirt, he examined the marks on his back in the mirror. They had begun to fade and scab after Clara had treated them and he barely felt pain from them anymore.

It was moments of rejection like these which made his wish he could, so he could remember why she was pushing him away so much.

He stumbled into the kitchen to see Clara making two omelettes. He carefully walked up behind her and cleared his throat to signal he was there. She didn't move but he could tell she'd acknowledged his presence.

"You should really go for a scan." John said slowly, unsure of what Clara's reaction would be. "You must be at least 12 weeks by now."

Clara didn't reply as she scraped the omelettes onto two plates and handed one to John. "Yeah, I guess." She finally muttered, focusing on the food on her plate.

John ate quietly, glancing up at Clara every few seconds to check on her. She gave a small smile the fifth time as she finished off her food.

They were silent as John left the house and went to work. There were so many things he knew he should say to her, but he wasn't sure how. She wasn't working that day, he knew, and he wished he could take the day off work to spend it with her. Unfortunately, his work was what was making her be married to him and it wouldn't help either of them if he called in sick.

* * *

He closed the door and was surprised to see Clara sitting on the sofa. She was usually in the bedroom so she would be able to avoid him for the evening. He put his things down by the door and made his way over to the couch to sit beside her.

Clara waited as long as she could, weighing the distance between them, before she spoke. "I did what you said and went for a scan today. Thought you'd want to know."

Her voice was so dull and plain but her words made John feel an anger he honestly hadn't expected. "You went without me?" He sounded offended and Clara made sure to turn her head from him as she stood off the sofa.

"I called them up and they had a spare appointment for today. Thought it would be quicker if I just went. Besides, it doesn't really matter too much anyway." Clara reached onto the coffee table for her bag, rummaging through it's contents slowly.

John sat still in confusion and waited for Clara to speak once more. He had the feeling that any words to come out of his mouth would only worsen the situation.

"Here." Clara flashed John four wallet sized pictures of the scan. He barely had time to look at them before Clara pulled some scissors out of her bag and cut one out for him. "Thought you might get mad if I threw them all away before you saw them. It's a girl."

John nodded slowly, taking the picture. He felt his heart drop slightly when Clara threw the rest in a small bin in the corner of the room. "Don't you...Don't you want a picture of the baby?" John asked quietly, shrinking into a ball an hoping she hadn't heard.

"No." Clara muttered. "It's just a stupid picture on a screen, means nothing to me."

He knew she was lying, no matter how convincing that lie was. There was no way she felt nothing for the child inside her. Clara, as much as she pretended not to be, was a genuine and caring person and loved kids. He could see it in the way she looked after the Maitland's. It just stung that she insisted on putting on this mask around him.

* * *

There were certain things that John could deal with in life and there were times when he absolutely drew the line.

This was one of them.

They'd been assigned a mission that could be very dangerous. Four rogue Russian agents, who were selling secrets to America, had hired out a warehouse opposite the Russian embassy. From there they were using radio signals to listen into conversations.

Luckily for the Russians, they'd spotted the bug and had been staging conversations for them for the last week.

Now they were sending in a force of six to destroy the threat at all costs possible. They had no idea how long the bug had been transmitting for and vital information, such as whereabouts of agents and identities of double-agents, had been discussed in that room very recently.

Clara and John were to keep watch as the other four killed the men in the warehouse. They knew that they would be armed and if the other four should fail, John knew that they would have to go in to finish the job.

At nineteen weeks pregnant, Clara's bump was rather visible. The people in charge said that it could be used to their advantage as no-one would suspect a pregnant woman to be part of an attack squad for this mission.

John was still having doubts as they stood across the street from the warehouse and waited for their signal. He kept reflecting on the many arguments he'd had with Clara over this.

_"John, it'll be fine. We've been in more dangerous situations be..."_

_"I don't care, this time it's different!"  
_

_"Stop getting so over-protective, it doesn't suit you."_

_"Stop being so stubborn to your child's needs. Your daughter should come first."_

_"It's our job, whether we like it or not."_

Clara was stood near the warehouse, nodding to the other four men as they received their signal to start firing. She stood by as they slowly broke in, guns waiting. John crossed the road quickly so he could hear the fight. Although they would be using silencers, they should still be able to hear if anyone was shot down. It was only a few seconds before the gun fight began.

The first few shots came quickly, followed by a rush of more and more. The noises must have lasted but two minutes before Clara and John got the all clear signal. John heaved a sigh of relief and looked guiltily towards Clara. It seemed it had been a pointless mission after all.

Clara gave John a look of "I told you so" as they walked towards the warehouse. They hadn't even had to get involved and it annoyed Clara that he'd made such a fuss about it. She would make sure to get at him later for it as he'd already caused her enough grief over this particular issue.

"Everyone alright?" Clara shouted from the entrance, receiving a thumbs up from two of her men. She ran inside with John at that and met the leader of the group halfway.

"They weren't expecting it. Barely got any shots fired before we took them all. Stan is just checking the bodies." A tall man said, looking down at Clara. He pointed to a man walking around towards the bodies.

Stan walked up to each body and kicked their heads to check they were dead. He couldn't understand why they gave up so easily. John was going over mission details as he walked over to the last body.

"It doesn't make much sense." John complained to himself. "They were trained by the KGB. They should have put up more of a fight."

"Stop moaning John." Clara complained, turning her attention back to the other man.

The last stiff had ran into the corner when the first shot was fired. He had been the hardest man to shoot as he'd hid behind some boxes, but they'd hit him in the end.

Stan noticed something wasn't right as he approached the stacks of cardboard boxes. He could feel it in his bones. The man had been doing something in that corner, although he hadn't seen what. Everyone else was oblivious as he leant over the boxes and watched the timer start to tick down. It was strapped to ten boxes of C4, waiting to go off. He turned back to face the men, his heart rate speeding up as he read the twenty seconds begin to speed up.

"Bomb!" He shouted suddenly, snapping everyone's attention towards him. "Retreat!"

He began to run towards the exit, signalling for the rest to do so too. John grabbed Clara's hand upon instinct and pulled on it as the six agents ran as fast as they could. John knew he had to get Clara out of there and he sprinted hastily.

The ticks became audible as the ten second mark started counting down. The wind blew past Clara's face as she raced towards the streets outside. At one point she felt John's hand fall away from hers, but she carried on running.

Although the ticks were getting further away, they seemed to grow louder and louder in Clara's head.

They ended with several loud beeps before a drowning noise filled the air and Clara felt her body leave the ground.

She could see nothing.

She could hear nothing.

She could feel nothing.

Everything was black.


	10. To Deserve You

**A long chapter for you guys now! I am so sorry for that cliffhanger! But wow, I woke up to so many messages on tumblr this morning so thank you guys!**

**This is a really angsty chapter, just so you know. Oh and smut warning, 'cause ya know ;p**

**Enjoy :)**

* * *

A loud ringing ran through Clara's ears and drowned out any thoughts she could process.

There was a deathly silence accompanied with the ringing that shook Clara's fear to the core. Slowly she began to register the pain that filled her entire body.

She was lying on her back, she knew that much. As she slowly opened her eyes, she saw dust and rubble in the air. She thought she could hear sirens in the distance but she couldn't be certain.

Coughing violently to get the ash out of her lungs, Clara started to feel like her stomach was shattering apart. She slowly tried to sit up, using all of her strength to support her upper body.

Halfway into a sitting position, Clara fell back onto one arm from the extreme agony that came with moving. She looked down to her stomach and tried to control her thinking.

A piece of metal from the warehouse walls had sliced through her stomach and was protruding, holding the major bleeding in. She trailed her fingers down her stomach to the wound and screamed out when she pressed lightly on the skin around it.

She could feel the hot, sticky blood stick to her hands as it began to rush out of the edges of the cut.

The ringing sound overtook Clara's head once more and she fell back, clutching her skull in pain.

"Clara!" The loud cry was too distant for Clara to focus on. Her mind was going blissfully tired and she felt the blackness consume her once again.

John screamed Clara's name once more. He hadn't realised when he'd let go of her hand but it had been at some point. She had to be okay, he had to find her.

He could see faint images through the clearing mist. A loud ring from the explosion resonated in his ear drums but he tried his hardest to focus on the sound of the nearing ambulances. He ran through the rubble towards the street, hoping Clara would have gone in that direction too.

"Clara?" He cried once more, praying that he would hear a reply. A soft whimper sounded somewhere nearby and John focused his eyes until he saw the outline of a body lying in the dirt.

He ran a few metres, his eyes clearing up to identify Clara's frail body. "Clara." He cried once more, running to sit by her side.

The sirens of the ambulance had stopped now and he could hear nearby shouts for survivors. John looked down to Clara, collapsed on the cold, hard floor. His eyes settled on the metal sticking, sharp, out of her stomach.

"Over here!" He screamed as loud as his lungs would allow him to. "Please, someone? Oh God, over here!"

John focused his attention back to Clara, brushing the dirt off her face. "Clara, please. Come on Clara." He pleaded, grabbing her wrist and squeezing it tight.

"Out of the way!" Three paramedics pushed John to the side from behind as they sat down beside Clara. "Do you know her? What's her name love?" The female paramedic opposite John asked.

"Errm," John struggled to think for a moment, "She's called Clara. She's my wife and, God, she's nineteen weeks pregnant." He was barely able to choke out his sentences as he watched Clara squeeze her eyes tighter than before in obvious pain.

He saw the two other paramedics give each other a look, which he knew all too well. They pulled out an oxygen mask and wrapped it around her head carefully, checking her pulse.

"Clara?" The woman said loudly. "Clara, can you hear me?"

Clara shifted and moaned in pain. She tried to say something but it came out in small grunts and whimpers.

"She's got a clear head trauma. Get her back to A and E right now." The woman demanded, raising her arm to signal for a stretcher. They carefully shifted Clara onto it and rushed her into the ambulance, John following behind. He pushed past the other ambulance as they tried to insist her be checked out, never letting Clara leave his sight.

He jumped into the ambulance with her, gripping her hand as the paramedics tried to keep her stable. "Please Clara. Please, survive."

* * *

The consistent beeps brought Clara out of the blackness. Her body felt stiff as she fought against her brain to open her eyes.

Upon looking up, she didn't recognise her surroundings. The last thing she remembered was a massive bang and lying in the dust. It then hit her that she was in a hospital. The beeps were from the monitor that measure her heart rate.

She took a few sharp breaths, trying to recall what had happened before she'd arrived there. She could only remember John saying her name, again and again.

There was something important that she'd forgotten. She couldn't think what it was but something had happened and she was scared about it.

Her body felt like it had been asleep for years, each muscle aching as she tried to move. Her arms wouldn't support her as she tried to sit up and she stayed lying hopelessly in the bed.

"John?" She whimpered, hoping someone would hear her.

A loud crash sounded from the corner of the room and she felt two strong arms suddenly wrap around her.

"Oh God. Oh my God, Clara. You're okay, Clara, you're...Thank God. Thank God, thank God." He murmured, repeating his words into Clara's shoulder as he gripped tightly.

"John?" Clara whispered, her voice hoarse and strained. "Wh..What's going on?"

John pull his body back from Clara's and sat, perched on the edge of the hospital bed. He opened his mouth to say something, unsure of how to form a sentence anymore.

In that moment, two men, who had seen Clara wake, ran to her bedside to check her vitals. "Clara, I'm Doctor Wray." A young man said slowly. "Can you tell me your full name please?"

Clara looked for John, who had suddenly moved out of the way. "Umm, Clara Smith." Clara murmured, her brain going foggy for a moment.

"And can you tell me what the last thing you remember is before waking up?"

Clara scanned her brain as hard as she could for the most recent memories. "I..." She began, trying to recall as near to the time as she could. "There was a bang, an explosion. I was lying on the ground."

"Good." Doctor Wray said slowly, pulling a light out of his front pocket. "A lot of the time, people don't remember the incident. Now, could you stare at my finger please."

He held his finger in front of Clara's face, moving his light from one eye to the other. Clara struggled to keep her eyes fixed on one spot, as hard as she tried.

"She has concussion, but it should be okay." Doctor Wray said to the other man in the room. He nodded and scribbled it down on a piece of paper before leaving the room.

"John?" Clara asked quickly, his hand immediately finding hers once more. "John, what's happened?"

She'd only just had chance to see the sore edges to his eyes as if he had been crying for days, and the dark shadows at the top of his cheeks from sleep deprivation.

He audibly swallowed and looked away from Clara. His hand squeezed hers tighter even so as he worked up the courage to say what had to be said.

"John, I'm fine." Clara reassured slowly. "The Doctor's just said I should be okay. Me and the..." Clara cut off her words mid-sentence upon realising what the major thing she'd forgotten was.

"You received trauma to the base of your skull, but it was only slight bruising." John choked, voice catching in his throat. "And...you...a shard of metal sliced through your abdomen. It should have torn through some organs, but they were shielded by the..."

He couldn't bring himself to say it. He couldn't even look Clara in the eye as she realised what he was trying to say. He wasn't sure what he was expecting her to do, but what she did had definitely not been that.

"I get it." She said plainly, staring up at the ceiling. "She's dead, isn't she? The baby?"

John remained still, his gaze fixed on the floor as he tried to see if his head would nod.

Clara took a long, steady breath as she focused on the specks of dust floating around her. There were so many things that needed to be said, but they allowed themselves to be absorbed into the sound of nothingness.

"You've been comatose for twelve hours." John murmured. "You have some pills to help your stitches heal properly." He knew he hadn't been gentle with his words, but he couldn't honestly think of any other way to say them.

"How many stitches do I have?" Clara asked, mainly concentrating on blocking out all emotion. It was the only thing she knew how to do.

"Six." John whispered, finally turning to face Clara. She kept her eyes staring at the ceiling as John rubbed her shoulder comfortingly.

"You should get yourself checked out." Clara murmured. "You look like you have a few nasty scars."

John shook his head. "They're fine. I'd rather stay here with you." As much as he hoped it would do something, no amount of comfort would be able to mend Clara's soul. Not anymore.

* * *

The first month was like a death sentence to all around. Clara had insisted on going back to work as soon as she possible could, to be sent home immediately by Tom who told her boss that she wasn't fir for work. They'd all read about what had happened in the papers. It had been called an act of terrorism by the press, unsure of who was behind it.

The Russians hadn't been blamed as it was directly behind their embassy and even the British weren't stupid enough to believe they'd do that to themselves, although the Americans had denied any involvement with the attack.

John had tried to make sure their lives went back to normal, but now things were even worse between them. If they'd been living a cold war before, they were definitely living one now.

Most of the time, John slept on the couch as he wanted to give Clara some space. He knew that she must be feeling awful, even if she acted fine on the outside.

The truth was, Clara wasn't feeling anything at all. She had closed off emotionally and mentally. She was on standby-mode, praying to switch off some time soon.

She knew that, if only for one tiny second, she allowed herself to actually think about what had happened, she would self destruct and leave nothing left to recover. So, in Clara's head everything was normal again. Of course, at work people were being extra careful around her. Only Tom had known she was pregnant but it had been reported in the news and there weren't too many Clara Smith's that happened to be in the same explosion, just running around.

Tom tried his best to avoid the subject at all costs. The kids had seen Clara's many scars from the explosion, but none of them had dared to bring it up, even the worst kids.

She had carried on working hard, hoping that she'd soon be able to start her teacher training. She wasn't aware that those around her were more concerned than ever. John's eyes were constantly red from tears, as much as he tried to hide that from her. He wasn't a man that let anyone see him cry and Clara tried not to let it break her more that this was destroying him just as much inside as her too.

At first, the Russians had been sympathetic and not sent Clara on any missions, although they were annoyed that Clara was no longer pregnant. They'd sent their gratitude for handling the press situation well and just saying that they'd been out for a walk when the explosion happened.

John had spent an entire week in anger after he was called into the main offices. It had been less than three weeks since Clara had lost her baby and they'd had the nerve to call him in and insist that she get pregnant again as soon as possible. He'd wanted to rip every nerve out of the body of whoever's idea it was. It was clearly someone who had no idea what they were talking about.

He hadn't repeated any of that to Clara at all, still angry at the simple thought someone could be so uncaring.

It had been two months to the day since the explosion and Tom could tell Clara was agitated. She had been trying to busy herself with random rubbish all day and not being able to keep still.

After half an hour of Clara opening and shutting random doors in his classroom, Tom mad his decision.

"Clara, go home." He said bluntly, causing Clara to look up suddenly.

"I only have twenty minutes left before I officially sign off for the weekend." Clara said simply, flashing a small smile at Tom as if nothing were the matter.

"And I'm telling you to go home. You look irritable and you should just get some rest, take a bath. Allow yourself to relax." Tom smiled at Clara gently and prayed that she would have a rational reaction.

"Oh." Clara said, furrowing her brow in realisation. "You actually _want _me to go home." She looked to the door of the classroom and stared at it for a few long seconds.

"Clara, you know I don't mean it like that..." Tom started defensively, standing up to walk over to her.

"No, no I know what you mean." Clara interrupted, realising that he had interpreted her words in the wrong manner. "Um, thanks. I'll just...go." She gave him another small smile and left the classroom, her head wondering off to different places.

* * *

She threw her keys down on the side and walked over to the sofa in the middle of the room. As she sat down, she gently closed her eyes and tried to clear out all the things racing through her head.

Sometimes, she could embrace the peace and quiet of her mind, when others it was like a million people were screaming at her and her head was about to explode.

After a few moments of stillness, Clara stood up and walked over to the phone to check for any messages. As she took her first step, Clara knocked over the bin beside the sofa.

"Drat." She muttered to herself, squatting down to pick up the few things that fell out of the bin and putting them back.

As she scrunched up some old bills and failed lessons plans, Clara began to scrunch up some photo paper.

Upon realising what it was, she immediately began to unravel the pictures and straighten out the small crumples and tears in the paper. Once it was full again, Clara froze and stared at the three small photographs. She had no idea how long she was standing there, but at some point she had fallen back onto the sofa as she stared at the three images.

Her index finger traced the small shape of the baby's body and head. She traced her nail over the tiny fingers that had just began to develop and over the small legs that lightly protruded from the edges of the tiny body that had only just begun to grow. She felt her throat tighten as she examined the small bump of the baby's nose that she could only just make out on the picture and her eyes began to build up with heavy tears as she looked over the ears that were only slightly visible.

She clutched the pictures to her chest as a tear ran down her cheeks and dripped onto the paper. Once one tear had started, the rest came in floods and she struggled to keep her breathing steady as her shoulders shook in sobs uncontrollably.

"I'm so sorry baby." She whispered, so quietly that only someone very close could hear. "I'm so sorry for never loving you right. I really did love you. I loved you more than anything. I'm so sorry. It's all my fault, It's all my fault."

She had opened the floodgates to all of her feelings and now the wave was crashing down on her at an incredible force.

"I shouldn't have hated the idea of you so much. Maybe if I had loved you properly the you'd never have died. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

John stood in the doorway of his home, watching his wife curl up in a ball of sobs in his doorway. He had come home from work early for the weekend and was frozen in his space by what he had found upon entering his home.

The door shut loudly behind him and he knew Clara had heard it by the way she flinched, but her sobs carried on.

John ran over to the sofa and wrapped his arm around her shoulders from behind, hushing soft sounds into her ear.

Clara reached around and flung her arms around his shoulders, clutching to him as hard as she could. Her head was buried in his neck as she allowed more and more tears to shake her body into fits of hysteria. "I'm so sorry." She cried, clinging onto John so tight that it hurt him. "It's all my fault John, I'm sorry."

He wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her into his lap as he fully sat on the couch. "No, it isn't. It isn't your fault Clara, it isn't." He insisted, running his fingers through her hair gently to sooth her cries.

"I should have cared more about her. I didn't care enough. I wasn't a good mother, it's all my fault." She sobbed, shaking her head at his protests.

"Ssh, it isn't. You are the best mother. The very best. None of this was your fault. You did everything you could." He persisted, pulling Clara as close to him as possible in the hope he could provide some comfort.

"But that wasn't enough." She whispered, cries sobs still attacking her every breath and all John could do was hold her.

When Clara's paroxysm finally calmed down, she fell into a light sleep in John's arms. He carried her to the bedroom and allowed her to sleep off her tears, praying that she would feel better once she woke.

He cooked her some pancakes and dug some ice cream out of the freezer. Clara woke up shortly after and the look on her face told him how thankful she was for the kind gesture. She smiled as she ate the food, thanking him for it gently.

Her cheeks were still etched with tears stains and her eyes were still sore, but at least she was feeling and communicating which was better than closing up.

Clara curled up to John on the sofa as they watched television for a while, trying to pass the time. It was the most intimate they'd been for months. Simply sitting together made Clara feel at home once more and she only wished she'd realised just how much she'd needed John before.

Clara switched off the TV after a while and her lips quirked up into a soft smile. "Sorry, it was just making me really sleepy." She said sheepishly, burying her head into John's chest.

"No problem." He replied lovingly. "Come on, let's go to bed." He rubbed her am lightly as they stood up and walked to the bedroom after turning off all the lights.

Clara sat atop of the duvet, still clothed, and patted the spot beside her, signalling John to do the same. He sat next to her and opened up his arms for Clara to rest her body in his chest, fiddling with strands of her hair as she did and kissing the top of her head lightly.

"I'm sorry for what was said all those months ago." John murmured. Clara froze as she remembered what he was apologising for. She wasn't sure why he needed to bring it up now. "I didn't mean a single word of it. I..."

"Ssh" Clara hummed, planting a finger over John's lips before kissing them lightly. She leaned back and stared into his eyes for a minute, watching as they gazed lovingly back into hers.

"I come from a town in Saratov Oblast." Clara began, speaking slowly as if she were recalling distant memories. "It's called Pugachyov."

"Clara, you're not meant to..." John said quickly.

"My Mother died when I was just sixteen years old. Only a few weeks later, I was selected to move to Moscow for this mission. I had to leave my father behind."

John took a sharp breath. He knew that they weren't meant to speak of their past lives, but if it was what Clara needed then he knew that it was necessary.

"My name is..." Clara started, closing her eyes and taking a short breath. "Was, Lilja Kurotkov. Born on the twenty third of November, 1963."

"Lilja?" John asked slowly, looking down towards Clara. She lifted her head up slowly and met his eyes, nodding once.

"My parents died before I knew them." He admitted, looking down. "I grew up in an orphanage in Moscow."

Clara looked down and shut her eyes once more, unwilling to imagine what an awful childhood he must have had.

"My name was Nikolai Dolzhikov. I don't know my real birthday. The day I arrived at the orphanage was the fourth of September, 1961."

Clara took a few breaths before making the decision to switch into Russian. Her voice came out as a mild whisper, wary of anyone around hearing. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You have nothing to be sorry for." He replied, testing the Russian out on his tongue. Clara smiled at his slight accent. She could hear he'd been brought up in a rougher place from the way he spoke.

"I have everything to be sorry for. I've hurt you so much." She whispered, holding onto John's chest tightly.

"Never say sorry Lilja. You changed my life in the best way." John leant down and captured Clara's lips in his, slowly as if he could mend the damage in her heart.

She pulled back slowly, their lips still in touching distance. "I prefer it when you call me Clara." She said slowly, still in Russian as her tongue danced over the syllables that suddenly felt so alien in her mouth. "Lilja is the name of a girl who died back in Moscow. Clara is the name I have with you. Clara is the name I have devoted to you."

John nodded slowly, capturing Clara's lips once more as he tried to stop his eyes from tearing up. "As John is yours." He whispered.

He kissed her passionately, slowly leaning over her body so her was cradling it as she lay down on the bed. His kisses were slow and deep as he fondled the base of her skull fondly, running his fingers through her soft hair. Clara's arms wrapped around John's neck and pulled his body closer to hers.

One of her hands clutched John's hair, ruffling it more with each kiss. The other trailed down his back and along his side. It came to the base of his shirt, where she slowly lifted the hem up, asking permission.

John lifted his body up slightly to give Clara better access and she pulled his shirt up his body, breaking the kiss apart for a small moment to remove the piece of clothing.

Clara's hands ran up and down John's bare chest, trailing nonsense patterns into his skin as he continued to crave her body with his mouth. His lips left hers and began to slowly trail down her neck, delicately sucking and nipping each part of her skin. Each action screamed out their feelings for one another as they caressed the each other lovingly.

"Chto ya kogda-libo dyelal, chtobi zasloozhit' Vas?" Clara whispered in John's ear as he lightly nipped on the porcelain skin between her shoulder and her neck, making her gasp lightly.

John looked up into Clara's eyes and stared at her seriously. " Ya bil bi potyeryan byez Vas. Vi podrazoomyevayetye vsye dlya myenya."

Clara gasped and nodded, resuming the kiss once more. This time, their exchanges were much more heated. Clara quickly pulled of her shirt and her bra along with it. John hastily removed his trousers, and Clara removed her skirt, discarding them to the side somewhere.

Clara wrapped her legs around John's waist, marvelling in the feel on his bare skin against hers. If she was lost, then John was her salvation. He always managed to bring her home in the end.

John ran his hands up and down Clara's back, leaving light trails of where his nails gently scraped her skin. Clara squeezed her thighs tight, causing John to moan. She did it again to elicit the sound from his once more, smirking when she saw his face, eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

John wasted no time in removing the last of their remaining clothes after that, running his hands up and down Clara's body lovingly as she unhooked her legs to pulled her knickers down her legs. His mouth followed his hand, which was moving southwards, as he stroked her hip bone gently, feeling the scar in the side of her abdomen that was beginning to pink and fully heal. He pressed a small kiss to the discoloured section of skin, hesitating to wait for Clara's reaction.

He heard her sharp intake of breath before her slow exhale. He could tell that her throat was constricting with tears once more and he kissed the scar lightly again before crawling back up Clara's body to capture her tongue in a wild dance with his.

As Clara wrapped her legs around his waist once more, everything sped up again. He took no time in positioning himself at her entrance and pushing himself into her, mouth hung open for a few moments before he pressed open mouthed- kisses to Clara's swollen lips.

He moved his arms underneath Clara's shoulders and pulled out, pushing back into her once more. Clara let out a soft moan that made John's skin tingle. Each movement brought the other closer, driving them towards the end.

Clara didn't want it to end. She wanted to tell him more about how she felt, show him just how much he truly meant to her before this moment was over.

John was feeling the same way but his thrusts were getting ragged and jerky as his head began to cloud up. He saw Clara's eyes roll into the back of head as her moans of pleasure began to increase in sound.

"With a loud plea, he clutched Clara's body to his and pushed into her. "Clara." He groaned, long and stretched out into her ear.

Clara felt her own ending approaching as John gave a few final thrusts, her head spinning as she felt the turmoil in her stomach building. With a cry of John's name, she threw her head back and arched into him, coming apart around him.

John pressed lots of exhausted kisses to Clara's forehead, holding her body to his as close as he could.

Once he fully came down from his high, John rolled onto his side and pulled Clara into his arms. She closed her eyes and rested on his chest, finding the position more comforting than ever.

"Ya lyooblyoo Vas, Clara." John murmured, closing his eyes to drift off to sleep.

"I love you too John." Clara replied softly, shutting her eyes too.

It was then Clara realised that maybe she was wrong. Maybe there was a way that John could mend her soul after all.

* * *

**Okay: So in this I have been calculating all the dates from 1982 onward. **

**Now, we all know that Clara's birthday is the 23rd of November and because in the first chapter she was nineteen, I counted back nineteen years to get her birth date. It is a complete coincidence that it happened to be 1963! I had to triple check it because that was entirely unintentional!**

**Russian translations (For when it was in actual Russian) : **

_**Chto ya kogda-libo dyelal, chtobi zasloozhit' Vas?- What have I ever done to deserve you?**_

_**Ya bil bi potyeryan byez Vas. Vi podrazoomyevayetye vsye dlya myenya.- I'd be lost without you. You mean everything to me**_

_**Ya lyooblyoo Vas- I love you**_

**Hope that provides some context! I just thought those certain phrases needed to be written in Russian. **


	11. Something Beautiful

**This chapter is a little shorter but it's still quite long. This chapter goes over the space of nine months, I wonder why?****For timelines, as things get confusing and they matter a lot in this story, they are currently in 1984. The last chapter ended in March 1984. Clara is currently 21 but by the end of this chapter she'll be 22 and John will be 23. ****So this chapter should be interesting. I just sat here writing pure random crap so I apologise for that and any mistakes! My sister suddenly decided she wanted to watch the Americans and I was more than willing to oblige (haven't seen the entire first series and there are two points in this story to come that happened in the show. And there I thought I was being original :p)**

**I'm sorry if this chapter is awful, thank you to all your wonderful reviews! And thank you to Kosovaheartland who has helped me out with loads of plots. Sorry, keep forgetting to thank people!**

**By the way, since I am back up writing regularly again, I will be taking prompts for one-shots or two-shots and putting them on my collection of them on ****this account. Just PM me them or send them in on my tumblr!**

**Thanks for reading! OhMyStarsShiz xo**

* * *

Trust is not something you can teach yourself to have. It has to be learnt over time and through experience.

Trust is something that Lilja Kurotkov had always lacked. She'd been hurt too many times to trust anyone. Instead, she had closed off her emotions for years.

But now she had someone who she could allow herself to trust. It was a slow process, building and building day by day. She barely even realised it happening, taking it in her stride.

It was only after nearly two months did she realised that something within her had changed. When she thought of John, she saw someone she depended on; someone she could _trust_.

* * *

John woke up to an empty bed. It was a Monday morning and it wasn't unlike Clara to be up earlier so she could be fully awake. Her teaching training application had gone through and she had been allowed to do her ITT in the school which she was already working at, which was a major relief. Tom had been the assigned supervising teacher, per his request, and they worked wonderfully together. The kids already loved Clara before and took half of his lessons anyway when he got bored.

So she'd begun waking up earlier in the mornings and making sure she was in a right head for work. She was actually very excited about her teacher training. The KGB had formed a few documents for her to say she was a graduate and it was all sorted very quickly. As weird as it sounded, Clara loved being an English teacher. She secretly wished that the life she had built with John was the entirety of their relationship and occupation, without all of the agency work at night or at the weekend.

John sighed as he woke, looking through the bedroom door towards the kitchen to check if she was there. When he saw no sign of her, he grunted in confusion and slowly trailed himself out of bed. He was yawning as he walked into the bathroom, barely noticing Clara sitting on the edge of the bath tub.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw her nervous expression and he studied her body language before approaching her.

Her eyes were trained on the floor and she was biting her bottom lip. She always did that when she had something to tell him. During his brief analysis, Clara looked up and stared him in the eye. She gave a small smile and gripped her hands harder onto the tub to secure herself there.

It was then that he saw the white stick in Clara's left hand, securely fastened between the bath and her skin.

"Is that...?" John began, pointing towards the plastic instrument. Clara looked down at it, snapping out of her mild daydream.

"Oh yeah, that. Yeah, it's positive." She spoke slowly, trying to make sure all her words were in the correct place.

John's eyes widened in happiness and he had to run over her last sentence in his head. "Positive?" He asked, his body tensing up in happiness.

Clara nodded slowly, flashing John a small grin before he dived towards her and enveloped her in his arms. He peppered her face with kisses before capturing her lips in a small kiss. He could sense her hesitancy and the issue needed to be addressed.

When he pulled back, he suddenly realised what the look on her face before had been about. "It's all going to be okay." John said softly, taking Clara's hands in his and tipping her forward slightly so she was half resting in his arms. Her eyes diverted down to where their hands met and she bit her lip, pondering what to say, in her head.

"I..I know it is." She began, stumbling through her sounds. "I'm just scared, you know? I don't want to mess this up." Clara took a few shaky breaths before giving John a teary smile.

John shook his head and pulled her into his arms comfortingly. "You've never messed anything up." He whispered, kissing her temple. He pulled back from the hug, his hands still on her shoulder blades. "This baby is going to be loved so much. And it's all going to be perfect."

Clara smiled at John and nodded, accepting his lips once more. She clutched onto his bare shoulders and smiled into the kiss. "I'm happy." She finally decided, telling John in a whisper. "I thought that I might not be able to...get pregnant again but...I'm happy. God, I'm halfway over the fucking moon right now."

John laughed with Clara as his grin spread across his face, unwilling to stop it in it's course. "Me too. You have no idea just how much."

John leaned back to stand up, extending his hand to Clara who took it happily. The moment she was standing, John picked her up in a hug and spun her around three times. She smiled at him in complete joy and John could have sworn he'd never seen a more beautiful sight in his life.

* * *

Clara did not enjoy the heated discussion she had to have with her boss as she explained that she would be on medical leave in just over four months. She's luckily already completed three months of teacher training, considering she had basically been teaching half of Tom's lessons for a while now, so they said she should be cleared by the time she went on maternity leave. Besides, her last month of teacher training would be in September and the baby wasn't due until the end of December.

John was still going on his mission with the secretary for information. He'd told Clara that it was going to end very soon as they'd got all their information and he just had to find a reasonable explanation for the two of them t break up without it looking suspicious. Secretly, Clara was elated by this news as it meant John wouldn't be leaving her alone at night as often anymore.

Of course, Clara was now on no missions. John had told the embassy that they couldn't have a repeat of last time and luckily, Svetlana had agreed with them. Most of the people in charge were men who didn't understand what that kind of trauma can do to a girl and so Clara felt very blessed that her boss decided to have a heart for once in her life.

This time, when they went for the scan, John insisted on going with Clara. She hadn't even considered that he wouldn't be there this time but he obviously still had sour feelings from the last pregnancy that had carried over to certain aspects in their lives. He didn't blame her for it though, even when she said things that were horrible. He'd known that they had both overreacted at certain things and in the end they'd only worsened the situation for themselves.

Clara spent every morning throwing up, silently thanking someone out there that her baby was still with them and that nothing would happen to it. It was a weird thing to be thanking a higher force over, but then nothing about Clara's life had ever been normal so there was no point starting at that now.

John knew it was hard for Clara when they were told their baby was a girl. She'd been hoping that it would be a boy, something different from the last child. She felt awful for thinking that but it was just a horrible thought. The more different this baby was to the last, the more chance it had to survival. At least that's how it was in her head.

Clara and John spent each night holding each other and reaffirming their feelings for each other. It was their way of guaranteeing that they would be okay and so would their baby. They would talk of random things, such as baby names and ideas for the future. It was rather ridiculous of them to even consider this as everything in their lives was decided by the Russians.

Except the baby's name. That was their own choice. They couldn't call their child a Russian name for obvious reasons, but Clara wanted something she loved. She immediately hit down John's request to call her Lily, stating that it was too close to home and she might get confused at times. From then on, all names beginning with the letter's L, N, C and J were banned.

It seemed the Russians had some major plans for them after all. During the summer holidays, when Clara hit the five month mark, they were given a week's notice to pack their things and move to a three bedroom house on the outskirts of London. It was nearer to Clara's school than she had been before and was a friendly neighbourhood. They had called it "their present for the happy family" as they gave Clara and John the keys. John had explained to Clara later how it wouldn't seem plausible, young parents who earn a good amount with a child who lived in a small apartment building. Clara tried not to question the three bedrooms in her head, knowing what the answer to that question would be.

Clara was only back at work for three weeks before she left for her maternity leave. She was kind of glad about that, considering everyone had pestered her about the baby and the plans and anything they could think up to do with babies. Tom hadn't been too sympathetic either, making fun of her in front of classes about the amount of cream pies she'd eaten over the holidays. In honesty, she was going to miss Tom for the next year, although he promised to come and visit the baby the moment that he could.

On Clara's last day of work, she decided it was time to invite Tom home with her so he could meet John. After all, she spoke of him often yet the two of them had never met. Clara suspected that Tom had quite hostile feelings towards John from several different occasions when Clara had come into school looking tired or with a massive bruise on her face. Even so, he agreed to go for her sake and to play nice. He even told her that he would look at John with a new page and try and form some sort of friendship with him for her benefit only. Clara had jumped for joy at that and flung her arms around his neck in a gracious thank you.

John hadn't been the happiest person in the world when he got home and she told him they'd have a guest over in less than an hour. He'd heard great things about Tom of course, but sometimes he felt as if this man were too close to Clara. From what he could tell, he had only ever been friendly, but his jealousy was kicking into his instincts and it took several splashes of water in the face to clear them.

Clara had began to cook spaghetti carbonara but John, upon seeing her with the many pans and walking around, insisted that he do it so that she wouldn't be stressed out. It was also for the sake of the food that would most likely burn under her watch, but she didn't need to know that.

At promptly half six, a knock came at the apartment door. Clara skipped over to the entrance and opened the door eagerly, grinning at Tom enthusiastically.

"Hey!" She smiled, extending her hand to invite him in. "Thanks for coming." Clara walked Tom into the living room as they stood by the sofa.

"Not at all." Tom smiled back, leaning in to place a soft thank you- kiss on Clara's cheek. "Ah, I see we haven't yet been introduced!" Tom smiled, turning to face John, who had walked over to him slowly and was examining him from head to toe. Clara shot John a stern look to tell him to be polite as he extended his hand to shake.

"You must be Tom." John smiled, being as kind as he could be. Clara seemed satisfied so he guessed he was doing okay. "Clara's told me lots about you. Don't worry, all great things." John laughed, smiling over at Clara who was rolling her eyes. She had the strange feeling that she would end up being the main topic of conversation over the meal tonight as it would be one of the only things the boys could probably get along about.

"Yes, and you're John. Clara's said a lot about you. Not entirely sure they've all been great but..."

"Tom!" Clara scolded, flashing an icy glare at him.

"Don't want to get on the wrong side of her." John whispered loudly. "That look is not one I like to be on receiving end of."

"No, me neither." Tom agreed, making a point to stare at Clara as he stare seemed to somehow intensify.

"Stop it. Now. Both of you." Clara huffed, walking over to the kitchen so she could set the table. John patted Tom on the back happily as they silently giggled behind her back.

Clara was quite happy that John had cooked in the end as it seemed he might have saved the dinner from an awful fate if Clara had tried to cook it. She was right about being the main topic of conversation, and some of the things they said about her made her want to dig a hole six feet under the ground and lay there for a very long time.

But overall, she had a very good night. Tom was kind to John and John went to the bathroom, she finally got a moment alone to talk to Tom about him.

"He seems like a nice guy Clara." Tom smiled. "He's good to you. When you're not looking, he stares at you as if are his salvation. And then..." Tom trailed off his speech, unwilling to say anymore.

"No, go on." Clara insisted, staring at Tom intently.. "And then what?"

Tom coughed lightly before facing Clara once more. "And then, sometimes, he has this look in his eye. I can't explain it. It's like...It's like when you find something out about someone or...or when you feel guilty for something or know something that makes you concerned. I don't know, just ignore me."

Clara thought over Tom's words for a moment, puzzling out what he was trying to say. As Clara opened her mouth to speak, John came back into the room and their conversation ceased.

* * *

After Tom had gone, Clara took a long shower. She had expected John to join her but he looked exhausted as if he had a very long day. When she got out of the shower, she found a note on the bed in John's handwriting.

_Last date tonight. Be back by twelve x_

Clara smiled as she read the note, lying back on the bed to rest her legs. They seemed to get more tired from carrying around the baby and she was constantly wanting to collapse from exhaustion.

She wasn't aware that she'd fallen asleep until she felt the bed dip to her side as John got in. She opened her eyes and looked at the clock, which read 11:42.

"How d'it go?" Clara mumbled, moving her body slowly to the other side. It was a lot harder to roll around with the baby bump and John smirked slightly as her hand came to rest on it.

"As well as it could have done. She cried for a bit but that's all over now." John murmured, kissing Clara sweetly. His hand came to rest atop hers as he closed his eyes for a moment.

"Oh." Clara let out a brief sound of discomfort and John's eyes flashed open.

"What? What's wrong?" He asked, urgently, his free hand immediately coming up to cup her face with concern.

"It's fine. I just...Ah, she's kicking." Clara moaned, bending over slightly. "Hang on..."

Clara looked up at John who's face was painted in pure shock and happiness with a smile to match his. "Can I feel?" John asked nervously, pressing his hand down lightly on top of Clara's for any sense of movement.

Clara grabbed his hands and moved it lower down her stomach, where he rubbed lightly. "She likes to move when we talk." Clara whispered, almost as if the baby could hear them devising a secret plan.

"Hello baby." John cooed lightly after kissing Clara gently on the lips. It was then he felt a small bump in Clara's stomach and the face she pulled clearly showed that it was the baby. "I...I just felt her...I just..." John pointed towards Clara's stomach, tears of happiness building in his eyes.

"Must be your kisses." Clara grinned, puckering her lips to accept another kiss. Clara understood that it was different for John. He didn't have to carry the baby around day and night and have the connection with the child she did, so this was the closest thing he could get to their child. That thought alone made Clara grin from ear to ear and she fell asleep in John's arms with a smile on her face.

* * *

John had never heard Clara spill out so many swear words in English before this day. She was lying in a hospital bed, clutching onto John's hand extremely tightly as two midwives told her to push. John had to admit that Clara had awful timing. She had gone into labour on New Years day and it was a good thing it had been the end of the night or next to no midwives would have been there for the actual birth the next morning.

She screamed one more time, her face twisted in agony. She kept telling herself that it would soon all be worth it. She had faced worse pain than this, or so she told herself.

"Just one more push." The nurse said, urging Clara to keep trying. Clara cried out once more, John brushing her hair back from her face as they heard a loud cry from the baby.

Clara collapsed back onto the bed, her body drained physically and with a shocked smile growing on her face.

John left her side quickly, after brushing her hair back from her face and kissing her lips quickly, to walk over to the nurses who were cleaning the baby off. They wrapped her in a small cloth before handing her over to John, who smiled down at the girl tearfully.

"Can I see her?" Clara asked impatiently, looking up at John with a sense of urgency. The girl was screaming in his arms as he tried to coo her gently.

John immediately caught on to Clara nerves and carefully walked over to her side, handing her the small child. She was tiny, barely big enough to be cradled in one of Clara's arms.

"Hello." Clara smiled, kissing the baby's forehead. The baby ceased her screaming as she stared up at her Mum. "Hello baby girl."

John looked at the two, every thought stopping and freezing. He leant down and ran hi finger over the baby's small foot as Clara turned her head to smile at him before diverting her attention back to the baby.

"Can we call her...?" Clara began, her head running through millions of names in her head.

John looked at Clara, the same dilemma in his mind too. He looked around slowly, eyes never leaving the baby for more than a few seconds. He even considered saying the words "Healthy and safety?" as he read all of the notices in the ward.

Clara looked up with sudden look of knowing on her face. "Heather?" Can we call her Heather?" She asked happily, looking down at the baby and nodding slightly as if to re-affirm her choice.

John looked down at the child who was now sleeping in her mother's arms. The more he stared at her, the more he saw her as a Heather.

"Yeah. Heather. Perfect." John grinned, kissing Clara's head as he looked down at the two women he loved the most in the world.

* * *

**Anything I know about childbirth is from TV shows and fact books so I'm sorry if that ending is awful!**


	12. Struck Down By Lightening

**Originally this chapter was going to be longer but it would have been double the length and I thought it would work better as two. It's not any shorter than usual though :)**

**This chapter has a smut warning but in a very different way. It's a bit weird...so if you don't like that kind of thing then skip this chapter. It is kind of essential to the relationship though. Although this story is an M so you've been warned. (Explanation at end)**

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed! Wow! :) By the way- Although it won't be until I finish this one and Surfacing Grace, I have two stories already planned out. I'll put a thing on my tumblr and I'd just like you to tell me which to do first. That would be a great help, thanks!**

**-OhMyStarsShiz**

* * *

The first few months with Heather were exhausting for Clara. She was barely sleeping and barely ever slept a wink.

In the first month, Clara had insisted on waking up every single time to check on heather, saying that she needed reassurance her Mother was there. john completely understood that and thought it would be best for the two to bond.

But after the first month was over, John lay down some ground rules. He demanded that Clara was not to wake up to Heather's crying and he would check on the baby. If she needed feeding, John would then wake up Clara but if it was just a nappy change then John would do it. He felt it was only fair to do it that way round, considering he couldn't exactly breast feed for Clara.

It made Clara smile that John had forgotten Mothers are very tuned in to their baby's cries. At first, if John didn't wake then Clara would do it, not wanting to disturb John in his sleep despite what he had insisted. Unfortunately, John found out about this very quickly when the Heather's nappy was clean in the morning and wasn't screaming for milk in the night. From then on Clara _had_ to wake John up.

In Clara's head it sounded strange, but she'd never been more grateful for it. John was being a saint to her and making it so she could actually breathe and sleep every so often. She was still tired of course, but John's rules made everything slightly easier.

* * *

John hated working until five, every single night. He only got home at half-past and Heather was usually asleep by six-thirty. He craved the weekends when he got to spend more time with his little girl.

Every day when he got home from work, Heather would cry out in happiness at the door shutting. It was one of the things that, on a bad day at work, reminded John what it was all for. He was doing everything so his child could have a better life. That's what the whole war was about, wasn't it?

Clara was cooking in the kitchen on a Friday night. She wanted it to be special for John after a long week at work. Heather was sat on the sofa, clapping her hands together at some show on the television. Clara smiled every time the little girl squealed, laughing at her reactions to the most strange things. Heather had learnt to sit when she was six months old and it seemed Clara could ever get her to lie down anymore. She'd never known ten months could fly by so fast. She was going to go back to work soon and she found herself not wanting to anymore.

She looked over to the TV to see Heather laughing at Bagpuss. As much as Clara would have loved to deny it, she strangely found herself liking some of the children's television, this weird show being one of them. She enjoyed the ideas of the toys coming to life and it always made Heather smile.

At that moment, the door opened and John peeked his head around the door. "Is this the Smith family?" He laughed, fully stepping into the house.

Clara looked over her shoulder and turned to face John, rolling her eyes at him as he walked in after what looked like a tiring day.

"Dada- da-da-dadadadada!" Heather squealed, arms outstretched to give her father a hug.

Clara's eyes widened as she stared at the baby. She looked over to John, whose eyes had seemingly widened too. Babies babbled nonsense all the time, but she was saying it directly to her father with purpose.

"Da! Da!" Heather cried out once more, still waiting for a hug. John ran forward and picked Heather up off the sofa, lifting her in the air and spinning her around before resting her against his chest and kissing her cheek affectionately.

"Hello Heather. You been a good girl for your Mummy today?" He murmured, kissing her chubby cheek once more.

"Bagpuss had been on since eleven." Clara grinned, walking over to the pair and kissing heather too. John rolled his eyes at her, knowing of his daughter's love for that particular programme.

Clara took Heather off John and bounced her up and down in her arms. "Who's that?" Clara said lovingly, pointing towards John who stood up straight and tall as he was spoken to.

"Dadadadada!" Heather laughed, clapping her hands together at the same time.

John started grinning at Clara, who had a smile to match his. "And who's that Heather?" John asked, pointing at Clara who kissed Heather's head a couple of times.

Mamawamama." Heather mumbled, leaning into Clara's chest to rest her head.

"Yeah that's right." Clara cooed, rubbing Heather's back soothingly as the little girl shut her eyes after all of the excitement. "I'm Mama."

* * *

Clara adjusted the wig on her head as she applied blood red lipstick to her lips. John lay in the bed, watching his wife get ready for her assignment.

"I don't think you should do it." John grumbled, rolling on to his side to watch her. Clara tutted, rolling her eyes into the mirror to make sure he could see.

"I did a mission the other day John." Clara sighed, tucking her recorder neatly under her wig. "I really don't understand why you keep making a fuss."

John mumbled something that Clara didn't quite catch as he moved his body to sit on the edge of the bed. "Heather...Heather is only eighteen months. What if she wakes up in the middle of the night and you're not back yet?" He thought up, trying to make his worry sound convincing.

Clara saw right past John's lie as she stood up and moved over to put her skirt on. "I know what this is really about John so stop lying to me."

John closed his eyes and put his head in his hands. "I don't like it Clara. The idea of those...men objectifying you, I just don't like it." John explained.

Clara turned around to face him as she grabbed her earrings off the commode and slid them into each ear. She then walked over to John still only in her skirt and bra. "They're not objectifying me John. It's my job and I do it voluntarily."

John still looked in a mood and Clara pulled his face to hers to give him a sly kiss. "You have sex with other women all the time for the job and I never complain." Clara smiled. "Besides, you didn't make as much of a fuss the other day now, did you?"

John stood up, pulling his wife up with him. "No, I didn't." He hummed. "But I didn't realise how jealous I would get until after you had gone."

"Oh, you were jealous now were you?" Clara smiled. "I thought you were...what did you say again? Oh yes, I thought you didn't like the idea of men objectifying me?" Clara smirked, teasing John mercilessly.

John smiled and pressed a soft kiss to Clara's ruby red lips. "Oh yes, I meant that. Did I say something else?" He smiled, taking Clara's bottom lip in-between his own once more.

Clara laughed, using one finger to push him back onto the bed, falling beside him. He kissed her neck slowly, his silent plea for her not to go. "Aren't you doing that right now though? Objectifying me?"

John looked up cheekily and paused for a moment as he struggled to think of a good comeback. "Yes, but I don't like it when other men do it."

Clara hummed in amusement, pecking his lips once more. "Well, hard cheese." She teased, standing up and walking over to her chair to get her shirt.

John made a point to run his eyes up and down Clara's body hungrily. "You should go dressed like that, he'll never be able to resist you!" John teased.

Clara turned around to shush him, pointing towards Heather's room and John made a guilty face, both of them staying quiet to check they hadn't woken the child. When everything stayed quiet, Clara flashed John a knowing smile.

"Only when I'm dressed like this?" She laughed, making her way back over to the bed as she pulled her shirt on.

John pretended to think about it and then slowly shook his head, dragging Clara back onto the bed with him. "All of the time. You're irresistible."

* * *

John heard the door shut slowly as Clara tried to sneak in quietly.

"It's okay. I'm awake." He muttered, sitting up and turning on the bedside light. "How'd it go?" He asked, rubbing his eyes awake.

Clara was facing the mirror, removing her lipstick with a wipe. John knew something looked tense about her, but he just imagined it was the job.

"I got the recording." She replied, grabbing her nightdress from the corner of the room and throwing over the chair. She removed her shirt quickly and chucked it to the side of the room. "It's in the wig in my bag."

John's eyes widened as he studied her back slowly. He felt his breathing quicken as Clara carried on speaking. "Apparently the British are building fifty new subs that should make less sound. I have a lot of the details on the recording."

John stood up off the bed and made his way over to Clara quickly as she brushed her hair over her back, reaching for her nightdress. "'I'll go over it tomorrow and then send it to...John?"

Clara froze as John looked at her through the mirror. His eyes were wide with anger and confusion. She flinched as his fingers moved her hair over her neck, sweeping it away from her back so he could take a look at the damage.

"What. Happened?" John spat, staring at the long lines that cut through Clara's skin.

Clara shrugged of John's touch, taking a step away from him. "He was just a creep. Some people have weird tastes sometimes. It happens, it doesn't..." John was trailing his fingers gently along the scarring. "Ah!" Clara whimpered, arching her back away from his touch.

She hid her face in her hair, unwilling for John to see the damage. She could see in the mirror that he was already furious though. His muscles were tense and he seemed to freeze in his anger.

"John?" Clara whispered, unsure of what his next move would be. John suddenly raced over to the corner of the room as he put his trousers and shoes on. "John, what are you doing?" Clara cried out, trying to stop his actions.

"My wife had the living crap beaten out of her. I'm going to deal with it." He said simply, pushing past her and running out of the door.

"John, get back here right now!" Clara screamed after him, chasing him down the stairs. He ignored her as he strode too the door, fury pummelling through his veins.

When John hit the door, Clara caught up to him and grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around. "Stop it John, just stop!" She screamed at him, trying to pull him away from the door. "If you go in there and kill him then this whole thing will be over! That hotel has security tapes with my face on them!"

John seemed to calm down, weighing out his options in his head. every instinct in his body wanted to hurt the man that had hurt Clara, but the practical thing was to let it go.

John and Clara both turned their heads upstairs as they heard Heather's screaming from their shouts. "Oh now look what you've done!" Clara groaned, running back up the stairs to soothe the child.

John watched her as she ran, back slightly strained from the marks. He dropped the keys in his hand back onto the side and walked into the kitchen to grab a bag of frozen peas.

He walked back upstairs into Heather's room to see Clara holding the girl, trying to hush her back to sleep. He stayed in the doorway as he watch Clara hold their child closely, making sure she was okay. Heather looked over to her Dad shortly, her big brown eyes brimmed with tears from being woken up. She had the same eyes as her Mother; the eyes that made John give into anything. He could tell that he wouldn't be able to deny his daughter of much when she was older just from that.

It didn't take long for Heather to fall back asleep and Clara's body relaxed once she had. She put her back in her cot and walked back into the bedroom slowly, John following behind.

They didn't say anything as Clara changed into her nightdress, John getting in the bed with the frozen peas still in his hand.

Clara hesitantly got into the bed shortly after and lay down on her side, facing John. "I'm sorry." She whispered, staring up at him uselessly. "I know you're pissed, but going after that guy would have been pointless."

John shut his eyes and nodded with her in agreement. "I'm sorry for losing my temper. I just, I saw the marks and I...I just wanted to..."

"Hey, shush, it's okay." Clara soothed as John struggled for words. "It doesn't matter really. Besides, it was bound to happen as some point." John didn't even bother faking a smile at Clara's last sentence, his mouth twisted in mix of emotions.

"Lie on your front." John said tenderly, stroking Clara's hair back from her face. She smiled and obliged, lying her arms on the pillow so she could rest her head.

John pulled her hair away from her back which her nightgown conveniently showed enough of. He grabbed the back of peas and gently held it down on the first mark.

Clara hissed at the first contact, her muscles tensing up and her bones growing rigid. Eventually, the feeling went numb and she relaxed slightly as John carried on nursing each of her marks.

Once he was done, John lay down on his side, wrapping an arm around Clara's lower back and pressing a kiss to her temple. She fell asleep with her head on his shoulder , feeling a little bit safer once more.

* * *

John made sure Clara was still asleep as he dragged his body out of bed. He checked the time. It was 5am. The sun was rising outside and John snuck out of the room as quietly as he could, taking Clara's bag with him on the way.

Once he was in the kitchen, he poured himself a cup of coffee and dug for the small recorder that Clara had carried the night before. There was about forty minutes of recording on the small tape player and john put it in the cassette player so he could listen. The volume was very low, only just loud enough for him to hear.

He heard as Clara turned on the recording, her seductive lines addressed towards the man from the night before. He barely noticed her voice as she spoke, making her sounds come as seductively as she could.

He could hear material ripping in the tape and John shut his eyes, trying to block out bad images in his head. He kept thinking about what the man had done to Clara every time he heard her let off a loud cry.

He drank down his tea slowly, listening for any conversation about the intel as he tried to ignore the fact that the sounds were of his wife having sex.

He faced his back towards the recorder as the minutes dragged by, clenching his fists on the side of the sink as he heard Clara fake an orgasm.

Then he heard some chatter and he focused his attention back to the tape. They were discussing the subs, the man showing off about how wealthy and powerful he was. It made John feel sick to his stomach to know that this man believed he could have power over Clara.

It was then in the recording that he heard a light smack of skin against skin. John flinched, hearing Clara trying to fake a moan. After a few seconds, he heard the sound of something strong hitting skin and Clara let out a heavy breath. Clara asked what it was he'd used before the man struck her again.

On the third strike, Clara screamed out in obvious pain. Two more strikes and Clara cried out again. The veins in John's arms showed as he clung tighter to the edge of the sink, sure he would crush the metal inwards if he carried on.

He heard Clara screaming out loudly before a loud muffling on the recorder covered up some noise. The next sounds were all muffled like they were into a pillow and he could tell Clara had been held down. At the next strike, John turned around quickly to turn off the recording, unable to take much more.

His finger moved to press down but Clara had already beaten him to it, turning off the tape. John looked up slowly to look Clara in the eye. She stared at him blankly for a few moments as he realised she'd been standing behind him. He could tell he looked angry and horrified as he stared at a very tired Clara. She moved around him to the sink and grabbed a glass, getting herself some water to drink.

"I thought I told you that I would get the intel off the tape" Clara murmured, looking down to the floor. She fiddled with the tie on her dressing gown as she stared down at her bare feet.

John said nothing as leant against the table, looking down to the floor aswell. "Honestly, it was nowhere near as bad as it sounds." Clara said casually, filling up her glass once more as she'd already drunk her first one. "I was screaming louder to make him stop."

Clara's words gave no comfort to John, who was clenching his nails into the palms of his hands to stop himself from finding the man and killing him.

"How long were you standing there?" John said slowly, rubbing his eyes.

"A good ten minutes." Clara murmured, looking back up at John as she put her glass into the sink.

John sunk his head down and closed his eyes. Clara walked over to him guiltily and caressed his face, leaning into his body. His arms instinctively wrapped around her, keeping to her lower back to cause her no pain.

"Just forget this happened yeah?" Clara murmured into John's shoulder, kissing his neck lovingly.

John stiffened, unsure whether he could agree to that. He looked down at Clara, whose big brown eyes were staring back up at him. After a few moments of hesitation, John nodded and pulled Clara closer.

"Come on." Clara murmured into his neck, tugging on Johns shirt. "Let's go back to bed."

* * *

**Okay, so this chapter is a little creepier than anything I've ever written before! I think anyway. Basically, I wanted to show Clara going back on those kind of missions and as I was writing it last night, my sister asked to watch the Americans with me (what this is based on). I had forgotten all about episode 5 and as I watched it, this happens but in a bit of a different way. I thought it would be an interesting thing to incorporate into the story as it would really show some more sides to the characters and how Clara is still a loyal agent, willing to do what she must for the motherland. :)**


	13. Time Won't Pass Us By

**Hello, me again! This chapter is going to go through several years for a reason. I understand that a few people found the last chapter really creepy (including me to be honest) and I'm just going to explain it. So far, you've only seen their marriage when they're happy as a perfect life when in truth, it still has problems. They still have to do the same jobs as before and they have to be able to emotionally detach themselves. Thought that would help :)**

**Please please please review because then I know what you're thinking and it makes me write a lot faster. If I don't update as often this week, I'm going back to school in the morning and I have a strong feeling that a few of my teachers are in a mood with me. **

**Thank you to everyone who has been reading this so far! -OhMyStarsShiz**

* * *

_May 16th, 1986_

John sat Heather down on the side of the bed, careful not to hurt her Mum. The two beamed up at Clara who had massive bags under her eyes. "Can I see him Mummy? Can I see him Mummy?" The two year old chanted, shouting excitedly.

"Ssh." John laughed, tickling Heather's tummy and she squirmed at his touch. "Be quiet Heather." He smiled, his hand falling on top of Clara's thigh. "You don't want to wake him."

Clara smiled at the pair, looking lovingly at John. It had been a long nine hours in labour for Clara, filled with lots of colourful curse words about allowing John to knock her up again. But in the end it had all been worth it, bringing Charlie along with all of the stress. This time, John and Clara hadn't known the sex of the baby. Clara had been ranting on for weeks about how this child was definitely a girl and she could feel it.

John knew he would receive a slap when he told Clara that it was her own fault for only thinking up girls' names. Unfortunately for John, the entire thing had backfired on him and Charlotte had just become Charlie.

Heather was now sat on her Mum's lap, giddily trying to peer at her little brother. He was only an hour old and his face was still crumpled as he slept. Heather smile down at the boy, reaching out her hand to stroke his face.

John immediately tried to pull her back but Clara shot him a glare. "Go on, but be gentle." Clara urged, watching her daughter look curiously down at the boy.

Heather stroked his cheek gently, rubbing her tiny finger against his smooth skin. "Hello Charlie." She murmured, gasping as the little boy let off a small yawn.

John felt his heart melt and he moved forward to stroke the boy's cheek too. Clara smiled down at them, watching as her family greeted their new arrival.

* * *

Having two children in the house was going to be a nightmare, Clara knew. But that didn't mean it stopped her from trying to be a great Mum to both of her kids. On the second night she took Charlie home, she was woken up in the early morning by his cries.

She quickly tended to his needs, making sure he was okay before turning back to bed. They'd decided that putting his cot in their room was the sensible thing for now. Then, when he was old enough, they would move Heather's room to the end of the corridor so Charlie could be nearer. It seemed like the most convenient arrangement as Charlie would be crying more, but for now they didn't want to uproot Heather.

As Clara walked past her bedroom door to go back to sleep, she heard a faint whisper from outside.

"Mummy?" The sound came again and Clara smiled as she realised it was her daughter. She opened the door slowly and peered down at the girl.

"What is it Heather?" She asked gently, kneeling down to her height.

The little girl was clutching her favourite teddy bear as she rubbed her eyes tiredly and let of a tiny yawn. "Charlie woke me up and now I can't sleep."

Clara nodded and stroked her hair out of her face. "Do you want to sleep with Mummy then?"

Heather nodded tiredly, looking dishevelled after being awoken by the screaming. "You do know that Charlie might cry again and it will be louder?"

Heather nodded once more, opening her arms out so she could cling onto Clara. "But you will be there Mummy." She whispered, resting her head on Clara's shoulder.

Clara stood up with Heather in her arms and carried her into the bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind her. John opened his heavy eyes to peer up at the two and smiled as he realised Heather would be sleeping with them that night.

Clara lay her down in-between her and John and allowed her to cuddle into her Mum. John stroked her back gently so she knew he was there and the little girl cuddled up to both of them.

"I missed this Mummy." Heather whispered, prodding Clara's shoulder as she closed her eyes.

"Missed what?" Clara murmured, trying to see if she could sleep despite her daughter's prods.

"Cuddles. We never had cuddles anymore because your tummy was too big but now we can again." Heather whispered, closing her eyes and wrapping her toes into Clara's nightdress.

Clara opened her eyes and smiled at the girl, kissing her forehead slowly. She peered over to John who smiled at her lovingly. "You know I never got cuddles anymore?" He pouted, making Clara bite her lip so she didn't laugh. "Do I get them now?"

Clara reached her arm over Heather and stroked his shoulder gently. "Patience." She laughed before closing her eyes for the final time and falling asleep.

* * *

When Clara woke the next morning, she realised that Heather was no longer by her side. It took her a few moments of blurred vision before she saw the girl lying on top of John's stomach. John, who looked like he was sleeping before, opened one eye as he heard the bed shift and smiled at Clara.

"She doesn't want to let me go to work. She woke up really early and rolled on top of me to tell me that." John laughed, rubbing his daughter's back as she mumbled in her sleep. Her chocolaty hair was flopped over her face and Clara grinned at the two.

"Stay right where you are, just give me a second." Clara smiled, running out of the bed quickly and rummaging through her bag.

She found what she was looking for and pulled it out happily, holding the camera in front of her as she took a shot of her husband and daughter. John smiled as Clara grinned at them, getting back into bed to stay warm.

John had two weeks off to spend with his children as his paternity leave and he planned on making every moment count. It was rare that they got such a long time off together. John wanted to take them on holiday but realised that they really couldn't with the new baby as he was only just starting to adjust to new things in the world.

That meant they got to spend long hours at home, doing nothing and just being a family. There nothing John loved more than that.

He made Clara and Heather pancakes in the morning, sending Heather crazy after all the sugar he allowed her to eat. Clara hadn't been entertained by that but John argued that she was a child and deserved some wild time every once in a while. Besides, John was there to calm her down and she was far more excited about her Daddy stay home than anything else.

Clara slept for most of the day, making the most of it whilst she could. John made sure Heather didn't disturb her by taking her out to the park for a while. He left the baby with Clara for an hour so that she could tend to his needs.

Heather dragged John onto every climbing frame as he chased her around the playground, earning him foul looks from other Mothers, but he didn't care. His daughter was having fun and so was he.

As Heather was running around, she ran into a little boy that was heading right into her direction. They bumped heads and fell backwards. John immediately ran over to Heather, who was crying, to check she was okay.

"Oh, does it hurt baby?" He asked, kissing her red forehead better. "Come here." He soothed, picking her up and tapping her back as she cried. He heard another parent mutter about how it served him right for letting her run loose, but he was too busy to shout at them for it. That may have been a good thing on his part too.

The little boy who ran into Heather was slightly older and reached his arms out for his father, the only other man in the playground. John stood up and winced before facing the man.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have been letting her run loose." John said slowly, hoping to not get blamed for the accident. Clara would never forgive him for that.

"No, not at all." The other man said as he picked up his son. "Accidents happen." As the other man stood up, John's brow furrowed and his eyes widened.

"Billy? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at work?" John questioned, kissing his daughter's head occasionally as she finished off her tears.

The other man looked down to the ground. He was one of the other sleeper agents in the city. His wife was like Clara, brought over to England with him from Russia. john rarely talked to this man to avoid being caught but he remembered his face from the few times they had met. Billy had apparently remembered John's too.

"Oh yeah, got the day off you know." Billy murmured, flashing a friendly smile at John. John knew his body language all too well though. He was tense as he held his son, occasionally looking out of the corner of his eye.

John put Heather down on the ground, kissing her bumped head once more. "Go and play for a minute Heather." He said kindly, patting hr back for her to run off to the swings. Billy did the same to his child as he came closer to John.

"There's an op, isn't there?" John said in hushed tones. "Right now, in this park, there is an op." Billy nodded guiltily.

"I was told to bring my boy to avoid suspicion." Billy murmured, looking over to check on his son for a few moments.

John swallowed quickly, looking Billy dead in the eye. "Should I leave?" He murmured. He looked up at Billy who hadn't replied. "If I'm here, will it cause suspicion? Should I leave?"

Billy nodded once more. "It would be for the best." John nodded slowly and smiled up at Billy to stop it looking suspicious.

"Heather!" John called, opening his arms for the little girl to run into them. He swept her up into the air and carried her out. "Nice meeting you!" He shouted back to Billy, who waved in return.

John got home as quick as he could, deciding not tell Clara about the op in the park. It would only worry her and she wouldn't take the kids there anymore.

As he got in, Heather ran over to the sofa where Clara was asleep with Charlie on her chest. She climbed up and snuggled into Clara's side. John remembered the camera and ran upstairs quickly, racing back to take a snapshot of the three sleeping.

Clara woke up as she heard the snap and blinked awake. "Oi!" She shouted, pouting at John. They both laughed at the irony as John sat down beside her and put his arms around his family.

* * *

"Oh my God, thank you so much!" Clara thanked the neighbours as they agreed to watch over the kids for two hours.

John had said they wouldn't wake up until they got back, but Charlie had been having nightmares extremely often as of late. He was only three and he was always waking up for his Mummy in the night. She didn't want to think about what would happen if he realised he was alone and neither of his parents were there.

They had been given a call for a mission last minute and it was urgent. Clara had ran next door, saying that it was a family emergency and her Father had been in a car accident.

They had agreed to look after the kids for no charge as Clara and John got in their car racing off.

A Russian officer had leaked secrets to the British government in return for immunity and they had one hour before she would be picked up by MI6 and given a new identity. They had uncovered the whereabouts of her safe-house and John and Clara were the nearest agents in the vicinity.

They arrived outside the small apartment, going up the back outer- staircase and breaking into the apartment silently. Clara could hear a faint humming from the bedroom as she pulled out her gun by the bedroom door. They would wait for her to go into the living room before shooting.

Clara had trained with this specific officer, Anfisa Molokov, back in Russia. They had been comrades, although Clara had always been a better fighter. She was a good agent who worked in the embassy. Then, a year ago, she had gone off the grid.

The Russians had assumed she had either been captured or killed, but after an interception of a call between her and MI6, it turns out she had sold Russia out so she could live in England permanently.

As far as they knew, she hadn't only given up names of people who worked in the British embassy who were double crossing. This was a massive downfall to the KGB as they needed their informants in high positions alive and working for them. they needed to kill Molokov before she released any more vital information that could cost agents their lives.

John waited by the door to the apartment, making sure she couldn't do a run for it. From what they could tell, she had no gun in the apartment which meant there was no way she could fight them.

All at once, the door from the bedroom opened and Anfisa walked into the living room. Upon seeing the guns pointed at her face, she screamed and dived behind the sofa. Clara wrestled her to make sure she stayed quiet, slowly realising that the woman had pulled a knife out of somewhere.

She tried to stab Clara several times as Clara moved on top of her, pushing the gun away from shot. John closed in, attempting to shoot. He knew that he couldn't get a shot without hitting Clara too.

Clara jumped off the woman, the gun in her hands aimed at her head. She fired once as the woman rolled out of the way, the bullet scraping her temple.

She jumped back over the sofa and towards the bedroom once more. Clara had a clear shot of her head and without missing a centimetre, fired the gun, killing her flat. She fell onto the ground and Clara nodded over to John to signal that they should get out of there.

Clara had just begun wiping her prints of everything when a sharp cry pierced the air. Clara looked towards the bedroom upon instinct, John following suit.

She stood up slowly, carefully heading towards the room where the crying was coming from. As she walked in, a loud gasp escaped her mouth as her hearing had proved to be correct.

There, lying on the bed, was a tiny baby. It couldn't have been more than a few months old, if not a few weeks.

John entered the room after Clara, eyes wide at the realisation of what the cry was from.

That's when it all made sense to Clara. She had sold out the Russians to keep her baby safe. Clara swallowed down the sickening feeling in her stomach as she walked over to the child, over the Mother's dead body.

Clara rubbed the child's cheek gently, causing the crying to stop. She had bright blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes that shone up at Clara.

The girl gurgled at Clara in response to her and Clara felt herself wanting to be sick. John walked over to her, trapping her shoulder. "Clara, we have to go now or MI6 will get us."

Clara was unable to take her eyes off the child as John tapped her once more. After a few failed attempts of getting through to her, John yanked Clara's arm away. "We have to go _now_ Clara!"

Clara shook her head and shrugged him off. "We can't just leave the girl here! She'll be set into a home! It won't be right!" She silently pleaded John, her insides churning as she watched John screw up his face in confusion.

John shook his head in confusion. He was debating what to do in his head as Clara stared in shock at the child. She knew they couldn't leave the baby there. It wasn't the right thing to do.

"Fine! Just, come on!" John stumbled, running out of the room. Clara wasn't entirely sure what that meant on John's part but she picked up the child carefully and ran out of the room, leaving the child's things behind her.

John had quickly wiped down the knife in case of Clara's prints, before opening the window and climbing down onto the outer staircase. They snuck into their car silently, Clara grateful that the baby hadn't yet cried and was being rather quiet, so they hadn't been noticed.

The only sounds made in the journey back to the headquarters were Clara trying to soothe the child whenever she got restless and wanted her Mother. Each cry made Clara feel like she was being sliced with a knife in the gut.

Clara was reluctant to give the child to the officials, worried about what would happen to her. John managed to convince her it was for the best in the end, handing the child over to the Russians, who assured John that the baby would be taken back to the family in Russia. John wasn't entirely sure that was for the best and he hoped to God they wouldn't tell the infant's Grandparents that the reason their daughter had died was because she had been a traitor to the cause.

As Clara stormed out of the headquarters, Svetlana whispered to John, "She's getting soft. Happens to all. Watch out for her."

Her words angered John because he knew that any accusations of Clara not working properly could lead to her being moved divisions or taken back to Russia, and that was something he could never allow to happen.

* * *

Clara didn't speak to John as she got changed into her nightgown. She had thanked the neighbours immensely for their kindness, handing them some money for their help. She felt awful that they had given up their night so that she could commit a hit on a young woman.

John noticed how she spent much longer kissing the kids goodnight and reading them bedtime stories. She gave them each extra cuddles and sat back down with them each time they asked for more, which is why it took at least an hour before she got into the bedroom.

He was already lying in bed as Clara moved in alongside him. At first, she faced her body away from him . John could sense that she would turn around soon so remained on his back just in case.

His thought came true after fifteen minutes, as Clara turned around to face him. John turned onto his side and moved closer to her, wrapping one arm around her waist.

Clara nestles her head into John's neck and pulled him as close to her as possible. "Sorry about earlier." She mumbled slowly, tightening her grip around John's neck.

John held her closer, sensing that she needed it. "Don't worry about it."

John froze when he heard Clara's small sniffles. He leaned back to look at Clara. She had tears building up in her eyes and John cupped her face, wiping away one with his thumb as it fell to the pillow.

"Sorry..." Clara began, blinking a few times to stop the tears. "It's just that I...Back in that house, when I heard the baby cry, all I could hear was Heather and Charlie. I can't stop thinking about if something happened to us and they were sent back to Russia. Charlie's so young he wouldn't even remember us. That little girl will never know her Mum...because of me."

Another tear fell from Clara's eyes and John pulled her close to soothe her pain. "I know how you feel. I could see it in your eyes as you held the baby." Clara nodded softly, placing a few wet kisses John's shoulder before resting her head back on the pillow.

John leaned in to steal a few kisses, his hands going up to her hair as he tangled it in his fingers. Her lips were soft from her tears and John gently pushed at her shoulder so she fell onto her back into the pillow, him moving atop her. Clara smiled at him warmly before pulling him in for another kiss.

* * *

Clara had been waiting for John for a couple of hours. The kids were on her lap as they sat on the sofa together. It was ten at night and he still hadn't gotten home yet. Charlie had refused to sleep until he got back. She had no idea how the two of them were still up, but they had somehow managed to last that late.

John opened the door nervously, concerned of what he'd see there. He felt guilty for not at least calling Clara before he got home and he felt that way too. He was shot by a look of anger from Clara before the kids ran up to him, screaming for hugs.

He picked them up in his arms and walked over to the sofa. Clara had turned her head away in annoyance and John didn't blame her.

"Sorry." He murmured. "I got a call at work so I had to work late." Clara knew that meant he'd had a mission and she nodded. She understood that things were often last minute, but it had bad been a long day for her at her school and she had just wanted to sleep without the kids running riot because he wasn't there.

"Late work?" Clara asked, looking him in the eye so he understood her question. John nodded slowly and Clara smiled at him comfortingly. No wonder he looked so guilty. He always looked like a nervous wreck when he got back after sex missions, as if Clara would club him over the head for it.

Once they were in bed and the kids couldn't hear, Clara rolled over and pecked his lips gently. "Just call me if you can, okay?" She asked gently. John nodded in understanding. "You know how much I worry." Clara smiled, before turning back around and falling asleep.

John stared at his pillow in the dark, wondering if Clara knew just how sorry he really was for everything that had happened that day. _Everything_ that had happened.


	14. Words Of The Past

**I was going to update this on Wednesday, but I have been violently ill for the last three days and have only just mustered the energy to even think properly. **

**Thank you to Dr. Anthro-Tano for pointing out to me that two year olds don't speak that well. Sorry for that! My only only experience with kids comes in at around 3-6 and so I'm not great about two year olds. I was just basing it on myself because I could read aloud by the time I was 2 and a half and so I know I could speak fully, but I was a weird kid. Let's just say that Heather is very advanced for now :p**

**The other thing that I noticed, in my first chapter I wrote John as twenty-three. By chapter three he was twenty-one and he has remained at that age, going up from there since then. He is meant to have been twenty-one in the first chapter but I wrote it wrong! So, even if you didn't notice it, sorry to those who may have been confused about that if you were!**

**Thank you to all of you who have been reading this story so far. I am happy to tell you that after this one, there is only about one happy chapter left before the end. Well, by happy I mean it doesn't have a major plot line in. There are about ten chapters left, so hope this is good!**

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! It means so much to me and really brights up my day. Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

"Heather, for God's sake!" Clara shouted over the shouting as she turned around to see her eight year old daughter hit her younger brother. "Oh my God, what the hell?" She screamed upon seeing the physicality of the situation.

Clara marched from the door to the sofa and pulled her children apart as their fists collided. "Stop it! Right now this minute!" She shouted angrily, grabbing them both by the wrists. "Charlie, go and stand by the stairs right now this minute!"

The little boy stormed off grumpily and stood in her eye-line, his arms folded with a sour look on his face.

"Why did you hit your brother Heather?" Clara demanded, forcing the girl to look her in the eye.

"He started it! He hit me for no reason so I hit him back! It's so unfair, you always blame me because I'm older!" Heather shouted back, looking to the side as if she were about to cry. Clara choked down the comforting side of her that built up at seeing her child sad and persisted with the angry Mother.

"It may have been his fault Heather, but the fact is you _are_ older so you should know better. You need to apologise to your brother." Clara stood back and pointed over to the child in the hallway.

Heather folded her arms and shut her lips tight. Clara raised her eyebrows and stared at her angrily. "We can stand here all day, but I will just take away all your video games until you apologise." Clara stated as-a-matter-of-factly.

Heather jumped up immediately in what seemed like an internal debate. "Okay fine." She grumbled, looking over to Charlie. "Sorry Charlie for hitting you back after you were a pain in the ar-"

"Heather!" Clara shouted. "How do you know that word?" She knew she had picked it up from her and John, but she didn't exactly want her child saying words like that at school. It would raise eyebrows and cause issues that Clara honestly didn't have time to deal with. She had too much else going on in the evenings. She wasn't going on as many missions anymore, considering there wasn't much to do. The war was bound to end soon as it was getting stale, but as deep cover KGB agents, they were essential at staying in England in case a war did in fact break out as they would be the foot soldiers.

"Dad was saying it about something last night." Heather said simply, shrugging her shoulders. "Didn't know it would make you flip out so much."

Clara heaved a sigh and grabbed Heather's wrists as she tried to walk off. "That is enough with the attitude. Now apologise to your brother properly."

Heather groaned in frustration before walking over to the stairs to stand in front of Charlie. "I'm really sorry you're a big baby Charlie and that you insist of causing a fuss about everything." Heather looked over to her side to see her Mum glaring at her angrily. "And I'm sorry that I hit you." She mumbled under her breath.

Clara nodded at her in approval. "That's good enough. Now, pack your things for school." Heather ran off into the living room to pack her bags as Clara knelt down in front of the small boy.

"Heather tells me you hit her." Clara said sternly. "Why did you do that Charlie?"

Charlie's lip began to quiver and Clara knew that was his telltale sign that he was about to cry. Unluckily for Charlie, it was the sign that he was also faking it.

"Don't you dare begin to cry young man, now answer me." Clara demanded, making sure he looked her in the eye. Even as the boy began to cry, she somehow remained composed and maintained her eye contact.

"I'm sorry Mummy." He murmured in a teary voice. Clara nodded that she had gotten somewhere, thinking back on what Heather had said.

"Don't be sorry to me. Say sorry to your sister. You did hit _her_ after all."

Charlie nodded and walked off into the living room, Clara shortly behind. He slowly paced up to his sister and said sorry in a quiet voice. Heather nodded arrogantly before storming out of the room. Clara heard the door slam shut and she shut her eyes in annoyance.

Heather would have got into the car. Charlie was still at the infant school but Heather was in her last year at junior school. It shocked Clara how quickly the girl had grown up.

Clara leaned down to kiss Charlie's forehead quickly, saying goodbye before she ran out of the front door and got into the car. She took Heather into school in the mornings and so she had a five minute drive to talk to her. As the car started, the two girls were silent.

"I'm sorry I shouted at you like that." Clara murmured. "It's just...I get really annoyed when you stress me out like that and as you're older, I expect that you wouldn't hit your brother." Clara swallowed her words at Heather's still-annoyed look. "But, what I mean to say is...I didn't mean to shout at you like that."

Heather looked over to Clara and put her hand over hers on the gear stick. "I know Mum."

She smiled at Clara, who smiled back happily. As they drove nearer to Heather's school, Clara began to slow down. She quickly found a place to park and turned off the engine, getting out of the car.

She walked the girl to the gates and kissed her on the forehead. "I love you honey." Clara whispered, giving her a small hug, patting her back comfortingly.

"Love you too Mum." Heather replied with a smile, walking off into the playground.

"Have a good day!" Clara shouted, hoping the girl heard it as she walked away. She walked back to the car slowly and waited a few minutes before turning on the ignition. She sometimes forgot how quickly the kids had grown up. she wore it had only been five minutes since she told John that she was pregnant with Heather. Time flew by so fast, yet Clara wanted it all to slow down so she could embrace the small moments and make them last forever.

* * *

Clara flopped her body down on her bed after the long day. She'd had the class from hell in her last period and she now was taking a very well deserved nap, in her opinion. After breaking up a fight between two boys over a piece of paper, once child had thrown chewing gum at her and another one had stuck a note on one student's back that said "kick me." Which meant, whenever anyone got out of their seats for anyone reason, they were kicking this poor child in the shins. Clara was glad she had caught it after only ten minutes as it could have got much, much worse.

She had to admit that she was blessed her children weren't as much of nightmares as this particular class. She swore they must have been sent from hell to test her because she'd never had such a horrible class before. They really pushed her over the edge and made her want to punch a wall, which wasn't helpful considering Clara had quite bad anger control. She was a loving, nice woman and completely considerate when it came to children, but she wouldn't put it past herself that she had considered putting a bullet in one or two of their head's. She wished she could tell them that she knew how to kill them in twenty-nine different ways and not leave a single trace that it was her, but she knew that she would probably be fired.

Clara sunk her head into her pillow and groaned loudly. After a few minutes, she heard some scuffling by her bed and a large, warm body lay down itself next to hers. John put his large hand on the back of Clara's neck and subtly brushed the hair away from her shoulder to lay out on the bed beside her. His lips slowly came down to meet the point between her shoulder and her neck, gently pressing soft kisses.

Clara groaned at the nice sensation. She turned onto her side to face john, his lips still continuing to kiss her neck. She shut her eyes in happiness and wrapped her arms around John's back. "How was work?" She whispered into his ear, gasping as John pressed his teeth down onto her skin lightly, marking her slightly.

John made a small sign of tiredness and Clara got the message. "How was your day?" He asked in reply, pulling back to kiss Clara's lips.

Clara responded slowly, smiling as she pulled back to reply to him. "I had my year nines. I want to actually slaughter them. What do you think will happen if I release cyanide gas into the air and lock the doors?" She murmured hopefully.

John chuckled under his breath and kissed her lips once for her joke. "I bet some teachers would kiss you from relief." He mumbled, smiling up at her. Clara laughed and gently prodded John in the stomach.

"Unfortunately, I would get fired and I really can't be bothered with the paperwork right now." She laughed. She pushed her lips back to John's for a few seconds. When she pulled back, she kept her lips next to his, their breaths intermingling.

"Charlie said that Heather hit him earlier. Everything okay?" John asked carefully. Upon seeing Clara's frustrated sigh, he knew that she had gone through a very long day.

"He probably didn't tell you that he hit Heather first then?" Clara muttered, resting her head against the pillow once more and shutting her eyes.

John smiled to himself and shook his head. "No, I think that detail managed to get lost along the way." Clara tutted in sleepiness and took a few deep breaths.

"Ugh, the kids will want me to cook dinner." Clara groaned, sitting up and moving out of John's arms. John lay on the bed still, pouting up at Clara.

"I'll make it. You sleep." John said kindly, getting out of the bed. He crossed the room over to Clara, who looked like she was about to collapse on her feet. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her forehead.

Clara hummed in approval and then shook her head slowly. "I promised Heather that I would make lasagne tonight and she said she only likes mine." Clara murmured.

John giggled in response. They'd discovered that there were two things that Clara could cook better. Lasagne and only on very rare occasion, Soufflés. She tended to cremate them even so which meant it was a very special occasion when one of them actually survived.

Clara turned around to kiss John one last time before taking his hand leading him downstairs. She was relieved to find the kids on the sofa, watching the TV peacefully. It would have been hell if she'd have had to deal with them fighting again.

She slowly got out all the things she needed to make lasagne as John walked over to the sofa to sit down with the kids, pulling Charlie onto his lap and wrapping an arm around Heather as they snuggled together. She smiled at the sight, beginning to make the food.

Once the food was made and prepared, Clara looked over to John. "John, did you get the post today?" She called. She waited a few moments before John waved his hand in the air.

"No, sorry!" He replied, clearly pre-occupied with whatever programme was on TV.

Clara tutted under breath, making her way to the front door to pick up the mail. She quickly scanned through the post. It was mostly bills and documents that she would have to pay and sign. She couldn't believe there was still more money to pay out. They weren't ever shot, but it just annoyed her whenever she received more letters. They reminded her that she still had things to pay out when it was the last thing she needed to think about after a long day's work. She sighed until she reached the bottom the pile of letters.

She stumbled as she realised that this one was addressed to Clara Oswald. She only ever got mail addressed to Clara Oswald when there was something important from the embassy. She'd only been given that name as a back up as her maiden name, considering she'd been a married woman since the moment she arrived in England.

Clara walked into the kitchen, putting the bills down on the side as she scanned the envelope with her eyes. Hesitantly, she ripped open the back of the paper and pulled out the contents slowly. There were several pieces of paper in there, wrapped up in one that had been typed. There others were all handwritten.

She pulled out the outer paper, scanning her eyes over it curiously.

_Clara, these are messages we have received at the embassy from your father over the years. As it has been nearly ten years, we decided it would be time to give you an update. Make sure these are burnt after you get them as they are in Russian. Many thanks, Svetlana._

Clara stumbled at the words and quickly unfolded the many pieces of old paper. There must have been at least nine letters in that list. She'd never even been given them.

John turned around to ask about what was in the mail, but he stalled as he saw Clara's shocked expression. She was looking at something she couldn't quite understand. He knew that much.

"Be right back." John murmured to Charlie, getting off the sofa and putting him back down in the spot John had just occupied. He carefully walked over to Clara as he watched her eyes scan over something hesitantly.

"Clara?" He asked warily, reaching out to her in concern. Clara looked up in shock, and bit her lip as she stumbled to think for something to say whilst the kids were in the room.

"Could you make sure the food comes out when the timer comes off. I'll just be in the bedroom." She said politely, walking past John quickly with the letters and up the stairs.

John stood by in confusion He would leave Clara to do whatever it was she needed to do and would go and check on her later.

* * *

It seemed later would be after he gave the kids dinner. He wasn't particularly hungry and he knew that Clara didn't care much for lasagne, and considering her earlier expressions, she wouldn't especially in this moment.

He slowly trailed himself up the stairs and walked along the corridor to their room. He knocked twice on the door so Clara would hear him before he came in. He then opened the door and slowly walked in, looking at Clara who was sat cross-legged on the bed.

Her eyes were trained on the pile of letters in front of her and John could see the tears stains that were still present on her rosy cheeks.

"Clara?" He asked gently, moving onto the bed to sit beside and put one arm around her shoulder comfortingly. Clara seemed to visibly relax in his arms and she leaned her head onto John's shoulder as he made himself more comfortable. John looked down at the letters and soon realised that they were written in Russian. "What are these Clara?" He asked tentatively, pointing down towards the letters.

Clara swallowed the massive swell in her throat that was restricting her from saying anything. "They're..." She began, struggling to make a sound. "They're letters, from my father. He has been sending to the embassy every year and they haven't even given them to me."

John looked over to Clara and he knew from her face that whatever had been in the letter had seriously pained her from the fact that they'd kept it away from her. Clara choked on a sob as john wrapped both his arms around her small body and crushed her face into his chest.

"What did they say?" He asked quietly, kissing her head every few seconds as she allowed two more tears to stream down her cheeks.

Clara smiled slightly as she thought through what she'd read. "They've been sending him pictures of our family every year. He said that our children are beautiful and that you look like a nice man. He said he would love to meet you one day He talk about how I look so much like my Mother. He even sent a picture of her to prove it to me. And he...he told me that my Grandma passed away four years ago. We were always so close when I was a kid and...I never even thought about her. What does that say about me? I haven't even thought about my father much. He said that he thinks about me every single day and he misses me so much, and I've been an awful daughter. I should have been there for him. I should have..." Clara collapsed her words as the tears took over her once more.

John rubbed his hand up and down Clara's back as her shoulders gently shook. "I'm sorry." She whispered into his chest.

"Why are you sorry?" He replied, kissing her head once more. Clara chuckled lightly under her breath.

"Because you always put up with all my emotional crap." She replied honestly. "I'm crying over something I made the decision to do. I always cry on you over stupid things."

John shook his head in small amusement. "I'm your husband. Part of the job description."

Clara closed her eyes and buried her face further into John's warmth. "Is it? I didn't realise it was."

John smiled and pulled back to stare Clara in the eye as his hands cupped her face in a loving embrace. "Maybe it's just because I do special things for the most beautiful woman I know."

Clara turned her eyes to the side and laughed at his words. "Nice work suck up." She mumbled. "Thanks for this. I just...It made me think of the kids and how much I want my Dad to meet them. It would mean so much to me if one day, they could find out the truth."

John looked down and rubbed his eyes. "They would hate us if they found out the truth Clara. They can't ever know."

Clara looked up to John in understanding and lay back down onto the bed as she shut her eyes. The crying had drained what was left of her energy. John lay down beside her and kissed her shoulder. "Why don't you read them to me?" John asked lovingly, reaching between them bodies to grab the letters.

Clara nodded hesitantly as John handed her the letters. She looked through them, beginning to speak in a hushed whisper in case the kids came in.

She read out all of the things to John, losing her voice at points. Each time, John would gently caress her arm or kiss her forehead until she found it within her to carry on.

John didn't have any family back home, so he didn't know what it was like for Clara. But what he did know was how he would feel if he ever had to leave his family. If he ever had to lose Clara or Heather or Charlie for any reason at all it would destroy him. He was sure of it. That's why he held Clara the tighter and didn't care that she was crying on him. He loved her and he would do anything to keep her next to him for as long as possible, whether that be in England or in Russia.

Clara eventually fell asleep in John's arms. He left the bed, allowing her to get a good few hours rest as he went to join the kids once more.

On the way, he picked up the picture of Clara's mother. She had truly looked a lot like Clara. They could have been sisters in that photo, and it was clear that Clara knew that. John knew that Heather would probably look that way one day too. She was already a mini version of her Mum, just a little bit taller. Charlie was more of a mix of the two. He had the rocket-fin ears which Clara teased John relentlessly for, and his chin was slightly larger than Heather's, which John also found adorable. But he had Clara's slightly turned up nose and her warm brown eyes that he found so endearing.

This was his family .They weren't normal at heart and they may have not been the best family, but they were his and that was what mattered. As long as he was alive, they held a place in his hearts and that was all that mattered to him.


	15. The Poet's Last Bow

**Sorry for the wait! There's been some personal crap going on and didn't get a chance to write. So extra long chapter for you guys! (double length)**

**Hope you enjoy it! (Surfacing Grace will be up soon- would have been first but didn't have chance to finish it)**

**Thanks- OhMyStarsShiz**

* * *

"John, have you seen Heather's medical card?" Clara shouted through to the living room, frantically rummaging through the drawers of old papers that had stacked up over the years.

"Errm, no!" A distant voice shouted back, clearly busied with making sure the kids were ready for school. They had at least a good ten minutes yet, but something always made them late.

Clara groaned as she moved down into the next drawer to search for the documents. Heather was going on a trip to the national history museum the next week, but they needed her medical card number before they would allow her on the trip in case of accidents.

There were so many papers filling up the drawers; random documents that John and Clara had kept, such as bills and random letters that might be useful in the future. At first it had been to prove that they were British citizens, but now it was simply from habit and from not wanting to throw away any important documents that might be needed in the future.

No-one went into this small chest of drawers usually because it was so messy, but sometimes important things called for them to go searching and usually they got lost within it.

"John, could you help me please?" Clara shouted back, growing frantic and frustrated that she couldn't find the card. The last thing she need that day was to trek to the Doctor's clinic during her lunch hour and prove her identity before getting the damn medical card number and making them issue a new one. They'd already had to do that for Charlie, which was an achievement considering he was only six years old.

"Give me a minute!" He shouted back carelessly, causing Clara to mumble curse words towards him under her breath. She didn't much care for this kind of chaos in the early mornings. It was far too frantic.

"John!" she cried out once more, hoping for a reply. This time she was greeted with silence and she punched the papers around her in annoyance. John was a great husband but extremely useless half of the time.

She opened the final drawer down and started rummaging through the many folders. It seemed this drawer was slightly more organised and Clara hoped that she would actually have some luck with finding what she needed. The folders all had labels on, most of them stating certain words. Some were just general documents, such as birth certificates or photographs and some mission documents.

She opened the birth certificate folder, hoping to find what she needed. She wanted to scream out once more when it wasn't in there, pushing her hair out of her face harshly as she shoved the folder back and pulled out a few more.

Each folder came out with the same impact, never giving a result. She was prepared to give up upon opening the final folder, where it had no likelihood of being. This was just a folder full of letters from random people as fake documents in case of a needed back up plan. As she scanned her eyes over the documents quickly, she noticed the few pages of dirtied paper.

She pulled them out delicately, holding the three letters in her hand. Upon pulling them out, she knew that the letters were in Russian and that she had definitely never seen them before. John surely would have told her if he'd been given letters in Russian, surely?

"Clara, need any help?" John finally shouted, walking towards the room. Clara quickly folded up the papers and shoved them into her bag which was situated beside her. She wasn't sure what had caused her to do it at the time, but she needed to know why her husband would hide them from her.

"Yeah please." Clara smiled softly as John entered the room, finishing off the remnants of his toast. He knelt down on the floor beside her and opened the top drawer once more, scanning through.

"John, I've checked, it's not in-" Clara stopped mid-sentence as John held out the medical card with Heather's name on to her. She gave him a look of annoyance as he smirked cockily, quirking his eyebrows at her. "Shut up." She mumbled under her breath, aggravated that she had spent so long looking for something in plain sight.

John left the room after kissing Clara on the cheek, shouting at the kids to get into the car for school. She sighed, all earlier things forgotten, and left the room in a heap of mess. She would clean it up later.

* * *

Clara dropped her keys on the kitchen counter as the kids ran up to their bedrooms. She sighed as she looked at the clock. It hadn't even gone four yet, and John wasn't going to be back for at least an hour. She looked around to think of something which she occupy herself with for an hour.

As she thought, Clara emptied out the remainders of her lunch from her handbag and shoved them in the fridge to make sure it was still edible the next day.

She pulled a few more loose items out of her bag, trying to put some order into the rubbish tip that she carried around with her everyday. There were drawing that Charlie had done for her in there, along with poems from Heather. She smiled at each one, putting them in a pile to stick on the fridge. The fridge was practically full all of the time nowadays, but Clara didn't care. She loved to see their faces light up when they realised that she'd actually admired their hard work.

As she pulled out the next few papers, a sudden thought struck her again and she remembered what she had found that morning.

Examining the letters in her hands, Clara sat down by the table and blocked out all thoughts that crossed her mind.

Clara flinched upon seeing the word "Doctor" used in the letters. It only took her a few seconds to know that they were from John's ex "River."

It made her feel uncomfortable to know that he'd hidden these from her, but she guessed that they were from long ago. It shouldn't really bother her that much, should it?

At least, she hadn't expected the letters to feel too close to home. She was mentioned in them, and the kids, which meant they were more recent than that. The first letter was simply exchanging contacts, catching up with life.

It was clear that this was John's ex getting back in contact with him, not the other way around.

The second letter was much more personal though. The tone changed significantly and Clara got the feeling that it was almost flirting, tempting in a way. It definitely wasn't appropriate for a married man in the slightest.

It made Clara's skin crawl and her blood grow hot in her veins. She wanted to punch this woman. Why would she be so arrogant. John should have been a part of her past. She must have known as well as anyone, if she was in the KGB, that John needed to leave Russia behind.

The end of the letter made Clara's heart stop as she read over the small details. They were a time and place. What kind of a person left a time and place in a letter, unless they wanted you to meet them? Why would that woman want to meet John?

Clara's resentment towards this woman grew stronger with each second, even though she knew that she had no right to be angry. After all, it is John's past and it was his love in some ways. She couldn't expect him to forget about it all of the time and only focus on her. She wanted him to, but she knew that she probably shouldn't.

With shaking hands, Clara read the last letter carefully.

_Dear Doctor, I understand what you meant the other night. That was a big mistake._

What mistake? Why had John mad a mistake? Clara's breathing stopped and she blinked twice before reading on.

_What you said about Clara and the children made me think. Your family must really matter to you and I don't want to ruin that for you. _

The words sounded far too apologetic for Clara's liking; too guilty. In her head she knew what was coming next. She just didn't want to believe it.

_I'm sorry for asking you to meet me. I should have thought about your relationship before I did that. What you said, about actually loving Clara, struck me, and I'm sorry for what we did. It was wrong for you and for your wife. I didn't realise you actually cared for her. _

_So, Doctor, I will leave this as the final farewell. _

Clara's throat constricted and she sat back in her chair slowly. John wouldn't do that. She knew him far too well for that, he simply wouldn't...would he?

She looked at the last letter one more time and double checked the date. Three years ago.

It was dated only three years ago.

Clara thought back to that year, when on Earth it could have happened. It then struck her that she didn't know. They went out on mission all the time, she'd never have known if he was truly on a mission or seeing someone else.

This could have gone on for months, and then he'd come home and kiss her goodnight and lead her on like some sort of fool. Well, not now. She was sick of being made to look stupid. She refused to allow John, of all people in the world, to make her feel like an idiot too.

Clara made the kids dinner early, being as cheerful as she could be. It didn't escape the children's notice that she looked sad, but then, there was nothing they could do about it. They knew better than to ask more than once if she was okay and they both decided that it would be best to leave her alone.

Heather wasn't stupid. She knew that something was up when Clara flinched at the mention of the word "Daddy." She always seemed to smile when Heather usually said that. Clara knew they could see the tears building up in her eyes as she stared at them.

These were the children who John had promised to bring up with her; who he had left one night to have sex with another woman.

Sure, Clara and John had sex with other people all the time, but that was for the job. this felt more personal, it was too personal. He'd done it out of love for another woman, and that was the breaking point. Clara thought, no, she knew, that John loved her. But, it turned out that he loved someone else too and that she could never trust him.

They had been down roads like this way too many times before, finally getting somewhere then falling a million steps back down the ladder. Each and every time it was because one of them screwed up or said something and then they realised that maybe their love wasn't as strong as they'd thought it was before.

Clara was sat on the sofa when the door opened, the letters firmly in her hand as she tried to stop her tear ducts from building up. She had to remain emotionless. If she let her emotions get the better of her, then he would just pity her and do it again. She had sent the children upstairs first, unwilling for them to hear the guaranteed fight about to occur. It was clear that John was oblivious to what was about to happen as he called her name cheerily, sounding like he always did. Clara wanted to punch him for that. How had he deceived her like this, every day for three years?

"Clara?" John asked as he walked into the sitting room, realising Clara's still position. "Are you okay?" He asked gently, hand coming on top of hers in a concerned manner. Clara could see the black of his bow tie in her eyes, but she refused to make eye contact with him; _couldn't _make eye contact with him. She knew it would make her snap and she was extremely proud of herself when she managed not to cry.

"No." She said simply, moving away from John's comforting stance to stand opposite him.

"Love?" He asked softly, stepping forward to embrace her one more time.

Clara wanted to spit at him for even calling her a pet name. As she turned her body towards his, eyes finally meeting, John saw the redness around her eyelids and he knew that something was very wrong.

"Don't call me that, don't even _think_ of calling me that." Clara spat, trying her hardest not to shriek in case she made the kids upset.

John looked around in confusion, unsure of what it was he had done. His lips where pursed as he tried to form a sentence, making out his innocence. all words dried on his lips though when he saw the old and dusty letter in Clara's hand.

His eyes widened and his body tensed. How had he forgotten to burn those? He was meant to have burnt them. John looked from Clara's hurt expression to the letters and took a steady breath.

"Look, Clara I..." John started, unsure of what there was her could say without it sounding like an excuse. In honesty, there was _nothing _he could say without being an excuse.

"Don't you dare." She whispered, voice cracking on the final syllable. She paused to keep her facade up as hard as she could, even though she knew that it's foundations were crumbling by the second and she didn't have long left before it all came crashing down in a wave.

John rubbed his eyes with his hands as he tried to think of something, _anything_, he could say which would stop the inevitable fight, that was about to happen, from coming. "I'm sorry." He muttered, his eyes facing his feet.

The faint sound of angry footsteps warned John that Clara was approaching and it didn't shock him at all when he felt Clara's hand collide with his cheek, sending his body twisting sideways.

"You bastard." Clara whispered in disgust at him, tears building a trench within her eyes, about to fall and bring down all her defences with them.

John would rather have Clara screaming at him. The silence was one of disappointment and resentment and it made his body ache with hurt. It was like mental rejection. There was no warmth in her approach, no love or anger. Nothing he could retaliate on. It was pure anger and heartbreak.

The fact that she wasn't trying to conceal the latter made his heart split in two. He could see on her face how much she had been hurt.

"We go out on missions all the time, I don't understand how this is any different." John murmured, immediately regretting his words the moment they left his mouth.

Clara stood, her shoulder shaking as she struggled to hold in the sobs of hurt and anger with John. "You don't understand." She gasped in-between breaths, stating the fact with a pained expression on her face. "Well maybe that's why you're such a Fucking dickhead!" The last two words were screamed out, Clara voice straining on each word.

The contrast in Clara's behaviour made John flinch as he watched her emotionally collapse beside him, and he could do nothing. He couldn't hold her as she cried or pick up the pieced for her, not this time. Because, this time, it was his fault; his responsibility. I wasn't thinking right, I'm so sorry, I-" John mumbled, desperate to make Clara forgive him. All attempts were useless though, and he knew that the moment he began.

"How long?" Clara asked, praying that the answer wasn't going to break her even more.

John swallowed the lump in his throat. "It was one time." John muttered, looking down to his feet. "I hadn't thought it through, I didn't think when I did it how it would affect you or..."

"It's not about that!" Clara screamed. "It's the fact that you didn't even consider us until afterwards!" She took a few shallow breaths, evening out her shaky voice. "You didn't even think about your children. Your own _children._"

The silence that followed that statement stung like a sore thumb and it made John somehow feel even worse than before.

"Do you even love us?" Clara asked quietly, so much broken hope in her voice that it was hard for John not to cry.

"Of course I do. How could you even ask that? Why would you even think that?" John gasped, hurt at the concept that his family wasn't the most important thing in the world to him.

Clara shook her head and walked past him quickly, stopping at the door to the living room and turning around to face him again. "I don't know. I'd never thought that you would lie to me about something like this, but I guess I was wrong."

Clara felt like John had taken her heart in his hands and prodded at it mercilessly, never giving her relief of breaking it, so she had to endure more and more suffering.

"I don't care what the time is, I'm going to bed." Clara stated, her voice piercing the deathly silence like a knife. "And I want you to find somewhere else to sleep, because I can't even stand to look at your face right now. Fuck that, I could even stand to be _near_ you." She spat, turning away and walking up the stairs.

Heather was stood in the doorway to her bedroom, tears in her eyes as she stared up at her Mum. She'd clearly hear the shouting and she had seen the many tears on Clara's cheeks. Without saying a word, Clara picked up the little girl and carried her into her room. She could hear Charlie's door shut as he followed behind her and she pulled them into her chest as she silently cried herself to sleep, making sure her children was as close as possible.

* * *

Tom knew something was wrong with Clara the moment she walked into school. She looked tired and upset. Her eyes were red from tears, despite the amount of eyeliner she had put on to cover it up.

She looked worse than he'd ever seen her before, even eight years before when she had lost her baby.

He didn't want to bother her, but there was know way he would allow her to suffer in silence. She was his best friend and he had always been there to pick up the pieces for her when she was down. Today wasn't going to be the day that changed.

He walked into her classroom at lunchtime, knocking gently on the door before he approached.

Her head was in her arms and he could see that she wasn't crying, but she looked just as bad as if she were and it was clear that it was taking everything in her not to.

"Clara?" He asked gently, sitting down opposite her. Clara's head lifted up off the table and it only took a few moments of Clara looking at Tom before she dissolved into tears.

Tom had his arms around her in a flash, pulling her into a hug as she cried onto his shoulder. "Hey, what's wrong?" He soothed, hoping to provide at least a small amount of comfort for the friend he valued above anything else.

Her sobs shook her body and Tom waited for a while before she was able to choke out the word "John."

Tom rubbed her back soothingly. "What is it? What's John done?" He asked quickly, thinking of the worst. Had he died or had something happened to him? He'd never seen many people as close as they were and he was sure that it would ruin Clara if he died.

"He cheated on me."

It was worse than he'd thought in some ways. Clara was devoted to that man and he had wrecked their love. Tom didn't push Clara any further. There was nothing more she needed to say. He held her as he cries died down. She needed to calm herself before any of the students saw her in that state.

Clara tried to make some words come out of her mouth, but everything was a choked cry and she looked to Tom for help, silently pleading him to rescue her from the darkness she had fallen into.

"Take the afternoon off." Tom decided finally, taking Clara's hand in his as she used the other to wipe her wet eyes. "Take the afternoon off, get the kids and come and stay at mine."

Clara stared at Tom in shock. "But...they have to be at school back on Monday, they can't..."

"I can take them to school." Tom suggested. "Just, pack their things and say it's a holiday. I have a spare room with a double bed for the kids and you can take my room."

Clara opened her mouth to object, but Tom placed his finger over her lips. "No buts', just do it." He commanded, nodding sympathetically to her.

"Oh, god thank you!" Clara gasped, standing up from her seat abruptly, hugging her thanks to him. She'd had no idea before just how much she needed to get away from John for a while.

Tom pushed her off gently. "Go, get the kids. Take them out of school early and I'll meet you at mine at four? If I'm not there, there's a key under the doormat."

Clara wiped her eyes once more rapidly, thanking Tom as she nodded, grabbing her bag and leaving the classroom.

* * *

Heather and Charlie were confused to say the least. They couldn't understand why they had to leave school early. Clara tried to tell them that it was a surprise, but Heather knew better than that.

She tried not to make her Mum angry even so, so kept her mouth shut. She didn't say anything when Clara told Charlie that they were going on a holiday to Tom's house for a bit and that Daddy couldn't come with because of work.

Clara ran upstairs and pulled out three suitcases from under her bed. She packed her own clothes quickly, making sure that there was enough for work the next week and the weekends. She wanted to be out of there as soon as she could be. She just needed space from the ever-closing walls that locked her up in this little world that wasn't really hers. This life, that had never truly belonged to her.

She packed Charlie's suitcase and then packed the rest of Heather's, making sure that she had school uniform in there as well as other essentials.

By the time it turned two-thirty, Clara had the kids and bags in the car, waiting to go.

She ran back inside to get the her keys, locking the house quickly as tears built up in her eyes once more. The moment she heard his voice from a small distance behind her, Clara froze.

She locked up and turned to face the man running up the drive "Clara, what the hell is going on?" He shouted, pointing towards the car. "Why aren't the kids in school? Why aren't you? Where are you going?"

Clara shook her head an walked past him, ignoring his panicked words. He grabbed her wrist tightly, but not enough to hurt, spinning her back around to face him. She wrenched her arm out of his grasp in pure hate as she faced him once more.

"Away. And don't ask for how long because you have _no right_. I'll call you on Monday." Clara said angrily, walking away towards the car.

John ran after her, Clara getting in the drivers' seat quickly and turning on the ignition.

"Clara, you can't take the away from me!" He screamed, running after the car as she pulled hastily out of the driveway. "Clara!" He cried, watching them as his family drove away. Charlie looked out of the back window, confused to why his Daddy was crying about them going on holiday.

John collapsed on the pavement of the driveway as the car drove out of sight. He could see the neighbours watching from their windows out of the corner of his eyes, but he didn't care. He sobbed into his hands, letting out a cry of anger and frustration.

* * *

"Thank you so much Tom." Clara murmured as he handed her a cup of tea. The children had gone to bed long before, questioning why Daddy was crying so much insistently. She'd eventually told them that he was sad they had to go on holiday without him, because of work. She knew Heather didn't believe her, but there was nothing else she could do.

She was sat on the sofa in her pyjamas, head resting against Tom as she finally found some peace and quiet. "No problem." He mumbled under his breath.

Clara shut her eyes slowly or a few moments to revel in the comfort of her best friend beside her.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tom asked gently, hand coming up to rub Clara's back. "Properly, talk about it?" He added, so she understood his point.

Clara wanted so desperately to tell Tom everything. She wanted to scream to the world about how mad she was, but she couldn't. Not without saying something that would compromise their assignment. Everything in her whole life was about the bloody job, because in the end, that was her life. The life that she had built for herself was all some stupid way of hiding the horrible truth about her real identity.

The hesitation in Clara's answer told Tom that she really did and he leant in to listen more. "Tell me." Tom said simply.

Clara shook her head, a ghostly smile appearing on her face. "It's not all that simple." She said hesitantly.

"It could be if you told me the truth about what's going on." Tom murmured. He looked around for a few moments as Clara kept silent, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat. "Okay, enough with this Clara. For years I have seen you come into work looking sad, never telling me the whole truth. You constantly look run down and it always has something to do with John, but that doesn't ever make any sense. I want to help you Clara, but how can I if you never tell me the truth? I'm your best friend for goodness sake, what can be so bad that you'd hide it from me?" Tom asked seriously, leaning in with concern painted all over his features.

Clara opened her mouth slowly, her voice catching in her throat. "Believe me, you don't want to know." She muttered, hoping he'd leave it there. Her walls were thin at the moment and she knew that she would crack if he pressed on.

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't want to know. Come on Clara, we've known each other nine years. Just tell me what it is." Tom begged, grasping her hands in his.

Clara looked around and closed her eyes. "You'll hate me" She admitted in a whisper, knowing that the crack was coming and soon he would never speak to her again. The one secret she had done so well to hide was going to ruin her and she could feel it building up inside her, preparing to be told to the only person she had left.

"I could never hate you." Tom murmured. "I could _never_ hate you Clara."

She shook her head slowly, tears forming in the bottom of her eyes once more. "You will." She nodded her head quickly, gasping shortly for a quick breath of air.

Tom shook his head insistently. "Clara, just tell me the truth. I won't hate you, I promise!"

She stared at him blankly for a few seconds, unsure of what to do. She had to say it now, there was no way she couldn't.

"I..." She began, stumbling on her words. "I'm a...I'm not...My name really is...Lilja. Lilja Kurotkov." She spoke slowly, testing Tom's reaction.

At first his brow furrowed in confusion, and then some more.

"I don't...understand. Clara, what are you talking about?" Tom asked quietly. He knew. Inside, he somehow knew what she was going to say.

"I'm not called Clara." She whispered, tears falling over her cheeks. "That name was made up. I'm really called Lilja Kurotkov." Tom pulled back from Clara and her eyes darted down to her knees in shame." I come from Russia and I work for the KGB."

Tom's expression was one of shock. Clara couldn't bring herself to face him, but she knew she had to carry on. Now she'd started, she couldn't stop.

"I'm on a top secret mission with one other agent. We were brought here as a married couple so we would blend in. We were taught perfect English and made the perfect Brits. Everything in my life is controlled by them. They told me when to have kids, they told me when to get a job."

Tom looked over to Clara who was somehow managing to make out her sentences in-between heavy tears that were painting her cheeks in hidden sorrow.

"And my kids don't even know. I leave them home alone almost every night so I can go out and...do missions. I get information for the Russians, I lie and hurt and maim and...kill."

The last word was on a choke and it made Tom's whole body shake. Clara wasn't a killer. He'd have known if Clara was a killer.

"And I don't know why I'm so upset with John." She cried. "I mean, we have sex with loads of people all the time, it's not a big deal. It's just knowing that it wasn't for the job, he chose to do it...it hurts. And I have no fucking right to be angry with him because I'm just as bad."

Tom shook his head as Clara's voice raised, her sorrow escalating to a higher point.

"He's had to listen and watch me have sex with random men and women and all he ever does is hold me and make sure I'm okay, and all I ever do is make him feel like shit. I'm an awful person."

Tom leant forward and pulled up Clara's head. Her eyes met his and she was shocked that he wasn't staring at her in disgust. He was looking at her like he always did, like a friend.

"You are not an awful person. You're the best person I know." Tom soothed. Carrie shook her head at him once more and wrenched away from his grasp.

"I've killed people Tom." She said quietly. "You've only ever done good things in your life and I have killed people. More people than I would care to think about more people than I would care to count."

"I don't care." Tom said slowly, watching Clara's reaction as she turned around shocked.

"What?" She asked in slight shock, slight mocking. She was sure he had to be an idiot if he still wanted to be her friend. "Tom, I have lied to you for nine years. Why would you still want to even look at me? I'm a monster Tom! I've single-handedly been one of the main reasons the British still haven't won the war."

"Clara, listen to me carefully." Tom said slowly, grabbing her hands and pulling her back to him. "I. Don't. Care. I don't care about any of that. You're still the same old Clara." He whispered.

He kissed her wet cheek sympathetically before pulling her into a hug. Clara was shocked to say the least. It took her a few minutes to comprehend that Tom didn't care about who she really was.

"I should really kill you now that you know." Clara tried to laugh half-heartedly in an attempt to make a poor joke. She knew that her voice was stale, but Tom still chuckled.

"I can't see your gun anywhere." He replied cheekily, squeezing Clara tighter in their friendly embrace.

Clara smiled slowly into his neck. "I can kill you eleven different ways from this position alone." She whispered.

Tom knew she was joking from the small laugh she gave into his ear, but he wasn't willing to question whether she generally did know eleven ways to kill him in a hug.

"I don't care." Tom repeated, making sure Clara understood. "I don't care who you are or what you've done. Tell me something in Russian?."

Clara pulled back from the hug slowly, looking down to her feet. "Umm..." She began, unsure of what she wanted to say to Tom. "ty moy luchshiy drug" She whispered.

"What does that mean?" Tom asked, eyes light with wonder.

"You're my best friend Tom." She admitted slowly, voice shaking.

"And I'm always here to listen to what you need to say." Tom finished off, smiling at Clara comfortingly. She suddenly realised that it didn't matter who she really was. He would still be her friend when she needed him there.

"John he, he had this...ex. They knew each other back in Moscow." Clara began to explain, glancing up at Tom every few seconds to see he understood. "And about three years ago, they met up here and he...well, he..."

Clara shut her eyes tight at the notion and Tom rubbed her shoulder, telling her that he understood what she was trying to tell him.

"And then I found the letters in Russian and...it hurt. God, it hurts so much. I finally thought he loved me." Clara whispered.

"What do you mean?" Tom asked gently, careful not to push Clara too far. She was clearly in a emotional state.

Clara cleared her throat after the long constriction from the tears. "Well...When I came to England, I was nineteen years old. I was married to a man who I'd never met before and it a strange country speaking a foreign language with different ways of living. At first, I never loved him properly."

Clara started to fiddle with her fingers, taking her concentration away from Tom to avoid the awkward tension in the room. "And then...after the baby we, we kind of worked it out. And I...I was so fucking stupid, I fell in love with the man. I should never have done that, I was weak. Always so bloody weak, always too weak. I was never strong enough to stand on my own two feet, never good enough to fight them all away."

Tom didn't understand what she was on about now, although, neither was Clara entirely either. But Tom didn't need to know. Not everything. There were some things that should remain unsaid.

"You are not weak." Tom insisted reassuringly in Clara's ear. hands cupping her face. "You. Are. Not. Weak. So don't you ever think that. It's John's fault for hurting you. Don't let him hurt you. You're perfect as you are."

Clara looked up slowly, hesitating on her thoughts.

In a blink, her lips were crashing onto tops, forcing his apart in ruthless embrace. Tom leant back shocked, but allowed her hands to roam as they wished.

He wasn't stupid. He could tell that this wasn't for love or lust. This was purely out of comfort and the need to know that someone was there for her. In a matter of seconds, Clara pushed tom back onto the sofa.

She knew she would regret it later, but she didn't care. She needed to feel something other than guilt or sorrow or hate or heartbroken, and Tom was just...there.

She kept telling herself that she didn't care as she removed her clothes, allowing Tom to take charge. She kept telling herself that she didn't care as he pushed into her, kissing her softly. She told herself, over and over, that it meant nothing and she didn't care as their bodies moved together. An when he finished, she told herself it meant nothing at all to her.

And she knew it meant nothing, because even after all of that, she could still only think about John.


	16. Walls Of Glass

**Sorry if this chapter is crap. It's really rushed- and sorry for no surfacing grace update. I just didn't get time :/**

**Thanks for all your reviews though! They mean a lot and they definitely make me write a lot faster!**

**Please excuse all mistakes you see. I'm tired and my fingers can barely move, or my eyes stay open!**

* * *

The first thing Clara felt was the cool breeze blowing over her naked body. It made her skin shiver and she clung tight to the blanket which now hung around her. She wasn't quite sure when that had been given to her, but she revelled in it's warmth.

Sitting up on the sofa, Clara looked around towards Tom's kitchen where she could hear faint noises. Memories of the night before came crashing into her head all at once and she had to taken a moment so that she could pause and sort out whatever mess was going on in her head.

Clinging to the blanket, Clara stood up and walked to the kitchen slowly, examining her surroundings. It was still dark outside, although there were hints of the sun on the horizon as dawn began to make it's appearance.

Clara found it funny how so much could happen during the night-time, but during the light, everyone feels untouchable. It was some sort of natural comfort that came from human instinct. The darkness meant vulnerability, and that's the one thing no-one ever wants to be.

She paced into the room, her bare feet sticking to the cold tiles on the floor. She smiled as she saw Tom stirring two cups of tea. "Sleep well?" He asked casually, turning around to face her with a mug extended towards Clara. She lifted her arm to take it, quickly remembering that it was the only thing holding her blanket up and smiling awkwardly at Tom.

"It's fine." He laughed reassuringly, "I'll carry it through for you." Tom walked past Clara into the living room and sat down on the sofa, Clara sitting beside him with her legs crossed awkwardly.

"What time is it?" Clara mumbled through her yawn, looking around for some sort of clock somewhere.

Tom pointed behind Clara to the clock that was quietly ticking on the wall. "Nearly six. Sorry I woke you." He looked down to his feet guiltily, not helping to relieve the awkward tension in the room much.

Clara smile as she looked down to her feet. "The kids will be up soon anyway. Might as well just wait now." She muttered. Her hand reached out to Tom's knee to show that she wasn't trying to be rude.

At the same time, they both looked up and gave each other unsure grimaces.

"Look about last night-" Tom started, blurting it out first in a quick haste.

"It was a mistake." Clara finished, nodding to herself. She sighed into her hands and rubbed her eyes to avoid making more eye contact momentarily. "I shouldn't have used you like that."

Tom shook his head, smiling comfortingly towards her. He extended his hand and gently stroked her shoulder, the feeling soothing and friendly. "I didn't exactly stop you though, did I?" Tom smirked, hoping to get a smile out of Clara.

Clara smiled to herself about the events that happened the night before. She remembered crying on Tom about her job and then it hit her that she'd told him everything. He knew absolutely _everything_. There was no escaping it now. She was done for.

"Oh God, you must think I'm such a mess." Clara groaned in self-hatred, praying that Tom would say something to her about never seeing each other again. "You find out some random shit about me and then I jump you. Really helping my own case here, aren't I?"

Tom chuckled lightly and opened up his arms, pulling Clara into his chest. This hug felt just like it always did with Tom; friendly and comforting and everything she needed from a friend. Nothing more.

"I don't, don't worry." He reassured, rubbing her back lightly. "And...you don't need to worry abut me forming some emotional attachment to you." He said unsurely, questioning what reaction Clara would give.

She furrowed her brow and pointed her head up towards him. "Why not?" She asked curiously, then blushing a deep red. "Oh God, I didn't...I mean, I didn't mean...That's not what I...!" She stumbled for words, looking lost as she tried to make sure he knew that she meant that in the least cockiest way.

Tom smiled once more and rubbed her back again. "Well I..." He began slowly, carefully wording his explanation so Clara wouldn't flip out. "I kind of swing the other way." He mumbled.

It was barely audible but Clara definitely heard it, her eyes widening in shock. The realisation of why Tom had never tried anything on her before hit in a shock wave and her mouth dropped open. It turned out that she wasn't the only one holding secrets from her best friend after all.

"Oh. Oh shit." She gasped, leaning away from him and peering at his face awkwardly. "I basically forced you to have sex with me and you don't even like...well, _that_ kind of thing." Clara blushed immensely. Her embarrassment overrode her reactions, but only from what had happened the night before.

"I didn't tell you because..." Tom said uncertainly, "Because, I didn't want you to think any less of me."

Clara leaned forward and furrowed her brow in mass confusion. "How could I ever think any less of you Tom?" She asked seriously, hand coming up to cup his cheek. "You're my best friend. Nothing you do or say is going to change that."

She placed a kiss on his cheek lovingly, before embracing him in a tight hug. Tom returned it, slowly at first, but gradually getting tighter and tighter until he was squeezing so hard, Clara couldn't breathe.

Upon hearing her gently teasing wheezing noises, Tom pulled back with a huge grin on his face. "So yeah, that's kinda why I didn't...um..." He flashed a small smile once more, testing Clara's facial expressions.

"That makes a bit of sense." She admitted, half to herself, as she busied her fingers with the blanket that was only just covering her.

Looking around at her surroundings once more, Clara thought towards the children that would awake at any moment. "I...umm, I need to get dressed before the kids see me like this." Clara stuttered trying not to be rude but to show her urgency that the children should never know about what had transpired between her and her best friend.

"Oh, yeah! Of course, no sure. Go." Tom smiled, standing up off the sofa and extending a hand to Clara to help her up. She took it gingerly and smiled towards him, before rushing up the stairs as quickly and as quietly as she could so she could get dressed soon.

Tom and Clara agreed that they wouldn't mention what had happened between them to anyone. Unless it was Clara telling John, which they had both decided would have to happen. They couldn't allow her to go around and pretend like everything was okay when she was harbouring secrets too. She would just feel like a hypocrite all of the time, and it wouldn't be fair on John if they got back together.

The other agreement was that Tom would keep his mouth shut about the Russian thing. He'd taken slight offense that she'd needed to even ask that of him, but she needed to be sure that her cover wasn't going to be blown. If someone found out at the English didn't kill her, then the Russians definitely would and it was just safer for all parties involved if they made sure they would keep their silence about everything they'd told each other.

* * *

Sunday night rolled around quickly and Clara dreaded the moment she would have to call John. She was planning on doing it at midnight. Now she'd had time to think, she knew that she should probably call John. She still wasn't sure she had forgiven him or if he had done any thinking in return, but she'd promised him Monday and she'd rather do it before a long night's sleep than after a stressful day of work and running around after the kids.

She tucked the children into the double bed that they were sharing, placing two kisses on each of their foreheads. As she walked away from the bed to leave the room, she heard the faint whisper of "Mummy?" Being called out to her.

"Yes sweetie?" She turned around asking, facing her son who's big brown eyes peered up at her curiously.

Charlie looked down to his duvet and then back up to his Mum who smiled softly at her. "Is Tom Daddy now?" He asked slowly, as if he wanting to cry over the idea.

Clara shook her head urgently, leaning forward to kiss the child's head and pull him in for a hug. "No!" She gasped, rubbing his back soothingly. "God no, Tom is not and will never be your Daddy. Daddy is irreplaceable to you and to Heather and to me. You know that baby." She hushed, kissed his forehead in-between statements for emphasis.

Charlie looked down guiltily again to avoid Clara's eye contact. "Then why was Daddy crying so much when we went on holiday?" He asked simply. Clara often cursed that he children had quite mature ages. It made her have to answer awkward questions that children of that age did not need to know.

She thought about it for a few seconds before cupping Charlie's cheeks and kissing his little, button nose. "Because, he misses us so, so, so, _so_ much." Clara lied, hoping that Charlie would accept that as an answer in his sleepy state.

The boy nodded slowly, trying to make sense of the words his Mother had given him in his head. "But we'll be home soon?" Charlie asked worriedly, a silent plea within his words. "I do like Tom, but I prefer Daddy." Charlie whispered, rolling over onto his side to get a better night's sleep.

Clara knew he had fallen into unconsciousness the moment his tiny head hit the pillow from the way his breathing suddenly shallowed out. "Me too baby." Clara whispered. "Me too."

Despite Tom's demands that Clara sleep in his bed, Clara was sleeping downstairs on the couch when she leaned over towards the house phone which was conveniently placed on the coffee table beside the sofa.

She dialled the number that was etched into her memory from years of random panicked calls and love notes from work. Each number brought a new sense of joy to her day, but this time it was different. Her whole body was filled up with dread rather than love and she could only hope that she wouldn't the moment she heard his voice.

"Hello?" John asked down the phone, sounding tired and droopy.

"Hi." Clara murmured with a coarse voice. She could practically hear the sound of John's body sitting up in alarm at the sound of her voice and John was suddenly much wider awake.

"I thought you said Monday?" John muttered in his sleepiness. Clara chuckled lightly and looked over to the wall.

"Check the clock." She smirked, seeing John look at the midnight hands, in her mind, as he tutted in amusement.

"Clever clogs." He mumbled affectionately, a smile evidently on his face through his voice. The silence that hung over the next few seconds brought back the unresolved tension which is what they needed to desperately address.

"John, look I..." Clara started, not entirely sure what it was she was about to admit.

"I'm sorry Clara." John interrupted, his voice going coarser than Clara's as his throat began to well up. "I'm so, so sorry and I just want you to come home. Love, I _need_ you to come home." He begged.

Clara's silence told John that she still wasn't ready, but he sure as hell was not prepared to give up his fight.

"I'll be better to you and the kids. No more secrets, no more lies. I'll tell you everything Clara. Please, I just need you back. I can't do this without you, without my children."

Clara's voice hitched when he mentioned the children. She didn't feel comfortable taking them away from him for so long, after all, what had they done to deserve not seeing their Daddy? But she needed him to understand what he had done. She still needed some more time to think.

"Look, we'll..." Clara stumbled out of her emotional haste, trying to form some sentences that would make some sense. "We'll come back on Friday." She whispered, not wanting to hear John's objections on the other side of the line.

"No, Clara. You can't do that to me. It's too long." John begged, his voice cracking from the idea of having to wait another five days.

Clara mulled it over in her thoughts before finally making a clear decision. "Come and meet us on Wednesday at Heather's ice-skating practice. There's a bit of free skating afterwards that I was going to with Tom. Maybe, take the kid out for a walk or something then?" She offered willingly. He was a good father and he didn't deserve to miss his kids. It was Clara who was mad after all, although she didn't have much right to be after Friday night.

"See you at six?" John said hopefully, the joy evident in his voice. It made Clara smile to know that he was happy again and not suffering.

"Yeah, that will be great." Clara smiled.

"See you then." John murmured, trying to me as comforting as he could to his wife.

"See you soon." She mumbled. "And John, I-" The line went dead in Clara's hand and she pulled the phone back from her ear, staring at it blankly. Her heart grew heavy with sorrow as she put the phone back on it's stand.

Closing her eyes, she rested her head on the sofa and replayed the phone call in her head. Moments later, the phone began to ring again and she picked it up in a flash, asking for John.

"I almost forgot to say..." John whispered lovingly, "I love you." He quickly hung up once more, leaving Clara in a confused but happy state of mind.

He still loved her and that was all that counted for now. She debated how long that would last after she told him about Tom, but she just prayed for the best situation to come out of the entire mess they; built for themselves.

* * *

"Mummy, watch this!" Heather cried out, shouting towards Clara at the other side of the rink. Heather had been taking skating lessons for a few years now, and occasionally Clara would skate afterwards with her. She had take Tom this time and quickly discovered that he really did not know how to ice skate.

Heather lifted her foot and did one turn in the air, landing it safely. Clara gave a small cheer, skating over to her and pulling her back to where she was with Tom. "Well done sweetie." She cooed, kissing Heather's head affectionately. "That's amazing!"

Heather beamed at the two adults in her presence, before getting distracted by her brother calling her name as he skated across the ice. Both of them took lessons, although Heather was much more serious about it than Charlie was.

Clara laughed as she watched Heather do three turns in a row, practising for the next week's lessons.

The girl loved to skate, which intrigued Clara greatly. She smiled as she watched her daughter do loads of things she had always longed to do once upon a time.

"What you thinking about?" Tom asked generally, smiling in her direction.

Clara hummed under her breath and smiled softly. "About how amazing my kids are." She turned to Tom and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, It's just...They do so many things I'd always wanted as a child and it constantly shocks me just how beautiful and talented they are."

Tom smiled in return and shook his head lightly. "No, your kids really are something." He looked over to the small girl doing more and more turns on the ice. "So, does Heather want to be an ice skater when she is older?" He asked lightly, nudging Clara with his elbow.

Clara shrugged her shoulders sarcastically. "It changes from one week to the next. Last week it was a ballerina, and the week before it was a chef, although the main one is figure skating."

"And Charlie?" He asked politely, looking over to the small boy in the corner who was watching his sister in delight and awe.

"God only knows." Clara laughed, staring back towards the children. Heather skated over to Clara and stopped short in front of her.

"Mummy, which country have good ice skaters?" She asked happily, bobbing her knees up and down in excitement.

Clara pretended to think it over before leaning down as if it were a massive secret. "Hmm, well, the Ukraine are pretty good. And Russia have basically unbeatable at pairs." She gasped, looking towards the girl with wide eyes.

Heather thought it over for a second. "Is England any good?" She asked simply, looking hopeful.

Clara bit her lip dramatically and shook her head. "Sorry honey, but you could be the first great British figure skater?" She suggested, making Heather's face light up once more.

"Yeah, I'm going to be what Mummy says!" She cried out, demanding that this were to be true. Clara laughed with Tom as the girl pondered her decision for a moment. "Actually," She said, "I'm going to be a Russian figure skater. That way I can be the best!"

Heather skated off to the centre of the rink as Clara's face fell. That was the last thing in the world she wanted her daughter to do. She'd never realised before just how much she suddenly wanted to be English; to actually have this life she'd made for herself with all the fake identities as real ones and real family with real friends and real night jobs.

"Does it ever bother you?" Tom asked gently, careful to avoid the hearing of those around. "That they won't ever be Russian?"

Clara looked over to the two children playing and shook her head slowly. "No." She decided. "It did, once. When I was first pregnant, I didn't know how I could bring up a child who didn't even know me. But now, I look at them, and they're so...English. And that's what I _want_ them to be. And I want to be that too."

Tom put one arm around her shoulders and Clara leant her head against his comfortingly.

"Daddy!" They suddenly heard Clara call, as he turned around and pointed at the man approaching the two children. They squealed as John picked them both up under his arms and carefully spun them around, to avoid hitting other people.

"How are you two, my precious little babies?" He cooed, putting the children down and pulling them both into a massive hug, squeezing his eyes tight shut as he held them dearly.

"I'm going to be a figure skater for Russia! Mummy said they were the best!" Heather declared to her Dad, making him laugh loudly.

"You do realise you have to be Russian to compete for them, right?" John teased, standing up fully once more and ruffling up her hair.

Heather pulled on her sulky face and gave John a huge pout. "I don't care." She said stubbornly, skating over to the edge of the rink where Tom and Clara were watching and listening to the trio.

John moved over to Clara and smiled at her. "I swear, that kid will now be looking for forms on how to become a Russian citizen soon." John laughed to Clara. "As if our children could turn out any worse."

Clara smiled at him secretly, trying not to laugh too hard at John's extremely "British" opinion.

"And here I thought drugs would be a problem. But no, my daughter wants to be Russian. May God help us all." Clara teased, Heather scowling at her Mum whilst she spoke. "I'm only teasing hon." Clara smiled as she kissed Heather on the head gently.

John stared at Clara momentarily, smiling towards her as she sorted out the kids. their eyes caught each others and Clara knew that if she didn't tear her eyes away from his soon, she would end up crying in public which was the last thing she wanted to do.

They all got off the ice quickly, Tom avoiding John's glare.

John waited patiently as Clara took the kids' shoes and gave them back, then put on their coats and got their things so that they could go out with their Dad for a while.

"Meet me at Bella Napoli at about nine-thirty, yeah?" She double checked with John. He nodded gratefully and gave Clara a sorrowful look as he turned away from her, wanting to pull her into his arms in a loving embrace.

"Oh Clara!" He shouted, turning back to her as her attention raised. "Erm, Bill and Jane have invited us to dinner on the Ricci on Sunday. Black tie." He smiled at her before walking off with the children.

Tom turned to Clara as she nodded slowly. "What was that about?" He asked quietly, walking towards the benches so they could remove their own skates and get ready to go.

"Um, Bill and Jane are my bosses. The Ricci is a boat and black tie means it's a hit." Clara whispered slowly, cautious of anyone around them hearing.

Tom took in the information slowly, leaning back to stare at Clara who was busying herself with other things. He'd forgotten that wasn't all just a game of child's play. there was so much involved to what Clara had to do, and she did it well. That's why she'd deceived him for so long.

He was going to press her for more, but it was then that she stood up to hand back in her skates and he decided it would be better off left unsaid.

John had managed to convince Clara to let him drive the kids back to Tom's when they met up again and she had given in to his silent beg.

He sent the children inside quickly, aware that it was long past their bedtime. Clara told them that she would be up in a minute as she stood in the doorway of the house. Tom had left to go in a shower, leaving Clara to talk to John alone.

"Clara, I..." John started, but Clara stopped him by putting a finger over his lips. She moved away from where she was leaning against the door post, moving them around so she could push John lightly against the door. Her lips moved with his delicately as she tried to mend away all the pain and suffering she had caused him; they had caused each other.

When she pulled back, she licked her lips slowly and rested her head on his chest. His hands instantly went up to hold her there, like he always did and always would.

"I love you." He whispered meaningfully. Clara felt the teardrop hit her head and she closed her eyes, knowing that her own tears were ready to fall too. "I love you so much Clara, and I'm sorry. Please, forgive me. I'm so, so sorry." He begged.

Each statement was emphasised with a teardrop and it made Clara's heart truly break in two.

"I love you too." Clara whispered, grasping onto his shirt for support so she could bury her face in his chest as she cried. "Oh my God, why are we so messed up?" She mumbled, praying that someone could have an answer for her.

"We're not." John replied simply. "Everyone makes mistakes, we're only human." John said simply. "And I don't care about _anything_ you've done or said, I will always forgive you for it. So please Clara, forgive me."

Clara nodded quickly. "Of course I forgive you, but..." She swallowed twice and started john in the eye. "There's something I must tell you first."

John smiled slightly and looked down to his feet. "You slept with Tom."

Clara leaned back in shock but John just smirked. "How did you..?" Clara started.

"I could just tell." John replied, stroking the hair out of Clara's face. "You always have been a more..._practical_ person at solving your issues." He mumbled.

"Then why aren't you mad at me?" Clara whispered, looking back into his eyes that were full of hurt and upset and love.

John shook his head in denial and confusion. "I don't know. I'm just...not. I love you too fucking much." He admitted with a shaky laugh.

"Me too. Christ, me too." Clara cried, capturing his lips with hers once more. His lips made her forget why she was ever angry about anything, even though she should have been. There were still issues she needed to address, she knew that, but for now she simply needed his lips against hers and that was enough.

When they finally broke apart, Clara clung to John tightly, before releasing him and stepping back to allow him to leave.

"See you Friday." He whispered lovingly as he started his trek down the garden path and to his car.

"I'll call you!" Clara called, flashing him a small smile. John stopped in his tracks and turned around swiftly to give her one last kiss, before running over down the path, leaving Clara standing in the doorway with a soul full of despair, but a heart full of love.


End file.
